


Babysitting Butcher

by PastPresentFiction



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Abortion, Alternate Universe - The Boys (TV 2019) Fusion, Angst and Tragedy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 82,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26950006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastPresentFiction/pseuds/PastPresentFiction
Summary: Dr. Veronica Taylor earned her stripes in the CIA. She'd researched the 'domestic terrorists' that were later found, unsurprisingly to her, NOT guilty of the crimes they'd been accused.  And now that assignment had doomed her to this one: acting as the liaison for the new Office of Supe Affairs.  She knew the real reason she was in the building.  She also knew she was doomed to failure because if her digging around in the pasts of the known Boys had uncovered anything it was that William Butcher was as controllable as a tornado.  Should she try to get through to him, as a good psychologist/CIA officer would?  Or should she keep her distance to save both their sanities?
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 89
Kudos: 92





	1. It HAS To Be A Fucking Joke, RIGHT?!

**Author's Note:**

> Do I REALLY need to mention that I don't own shit of The Boys' universe? I mean, if I did, why the hell would I add to it for FREE?! 
> 
> That said, this new character and NEW story that has NO Jeffrey Dean Morgan characters involved, is something that came to me after I finished the season finale the other night. 
> 
> Weirdly I still find myself thanking @JDMsNegan for prompting me to watch the show. She really seems to toss me to the shows that make my overactive imagination go wild. Here's hoping this goes as well as I'm hoping it does. 
> 
> By the way, this is of course an alternative timeline (after the season 2 finale). I can't help but want to play in Billy Butcher's pool. Karl Urban is just *takes a moment to calm myself* DAMN.

“Are you fucking joking?” My eyes were wide, and I normally held back the profanity while speaking to my supervisors, but for fuck’s sake, she had to be pulling a prank on me. Not that the tightly wound woman in front of me was known for her sense of humor, but this? This had to be a fucking joke.

Tight bun, so tight in fact that she looked like her face was taut from the pull of it, perfectly tailored suit, and heels that were functional and prim. She’d replaced Susan Raynor, our former deputy director after her untimely demise (is that what we were calling her being the first victim of the notorious head popper?). And, if I were being honest, which I also refrained from in front of this particular supervisor, she was falling short of the shoes she was supposed to fill. Luckily, she was ACTING deputy director, so she wasn’t necessarily a permanent annoyance. 

Her lips were a thin line of clear irritation. Her eyes were flashing with the very obvious thought that she couldn’t believe that I would dare question her authority. Dear God, she was already letting her pseudo power run wild in her fucking head. 

“I can assure you, Officer Taylor, I am NOT joking.” Her nostrils flared and I had to fight rolling my eyes. “Or do you prefer Dr. Taylor? I can never quite tell with you.” 

“Either is fine,” I bit out, wondering if I could argue against the assignment all the way to the top. I nearly sighed when I realized that it probably came from the tipity fucking top. “Is this because of the report I complied when-”

“When they were considered domestic terrorists?” She sighed and sat down, gesturing to a chair in front of her desk for me to sit as well. “It made selecting you easier, yes.” I fucking knew it. “You were correct, after all, they weren’t in the wrong.” I know, and so did Raynor, the woman who had me dig through their pasts and prove that they weren’t who the world assumed they were, even if she died before we were both proven right. “Grace Mallory wants you for this role, Dr. Taylor.” She was testing out my real title, but it felt wrong to her as well, I could tell. “You know who that is correct?” I did roll my eyes at that. Everyone within the agency knew who Grace Mallory was. “She has a great deal of pull and she requested you, so-”

“I have no choice.” I muttered. “And I’ll be on babysitting duty for how long?” 

She smiled at me, almost indulgently, almost. “Come now, Taylor, you’ll be in the new pride and joy that is the Office of Supe Affairs.” I sighed, and she shook her head. “I don’t know how long you’ll be their liaison,” ah, a new title that was supposed to appease me, I guessed. “I only know that you WILL be.” With that, I was handed a new keycard badge, a clutch of files, and a handful of contact information. “The office is located at the address on the top page, your office is ready and waiting, and I wish you well.” She refocused her attention on the other stacks of files on her desk and I knew I was dismissed. Fuck.

As I drove to my new building, my new office, my new duties, I was remembering when Deputy Director Raynor had come to me for the first time. She wanted me to understand that what she was asking was something that could not be shared with anyone else in the agency until she felt it was time. Handing me the bare minimal information on the men at the root of a manhunt. Calling them terrorists, saying they were at fault for all manner of crimes, she told me to utilize the talents that had gotten me into the bureau, and ignore the obvious confirmation bias that would usually taint such an assignment.

I’d worked on it for hours, then days, finding out more about William Butcher, Marvin T. Milk, Serge, and the oddball out Hugh Campbell Jr. I learned of the losses suffered at the hands of supes in the cases of Butcher and Hughie. I found out about Mother’s Milk’s father’s attempt to hold Vought accountable and dying young. And as for Serge, otherwise known as Frenchie, his upbringing was more difficult to piece together, but what I found had painted a bleak picture. Vigilantes? Probably. Terrorists? Hardly. I wrote the report, not knowing that the four had added a fifth, not that the knowledge would have helped with what I already had, and then learned that Starlight, the newest member of the Seven was suspected as well. 

After the death of Raynor, after the fall of Stormfront and the admission by Vought that she had been the culprit all along, The Boys, as they were being called, were vindicated. I knew that William Butcher had truly lost his wife in the quest for this, and I knew that would make him far more volatile than he ever had been. The others? I hadn’t had a moment to spare, knowing that the majority of this new “role” for me would be making sure that Butcher was reigned in. Kept on task and on the goals of the new “office”. And I knew I’d have my work cut out for me, if the file I’d composed was even halfway correct, William Butcher was an untamable horse. Or worse yet, a hurricane waiting to unleash itself on the entire supe race.

The building was sparse, as all government buildings seemed to be. Since it was so new to the world, the “Office of Supe Affairs” seemed far more sparse than normal. Not a fucking ounce of character in the entire fucking structure. No landscaping, although to be honest I wasn’t sure how the building maintenance would even try it, concrete as far as the eye could see, coupled with one way glass that mirrored the street traffic and parking lot, depending on which side you came into it from. 

Using my new keyfob badge to get into the parking area, and then again to get into the building, I smiled at the single receptionist at the high front desk. 

“Dr. Taylor?” He asked. I nodded, and he came around to show me to my office, pointing out other areas I might need while at work. “Here we are,” he indicated the same security pad for me to fob myself in, and once I did, he opened the door. “You were given the office with the best view,” I could see that my ‘view’ was the back alley, but I imagined he meant the skyline when he mentioned my view. “Laptop, printer, phone.” He pointed them out as though I couldn’t give myself the fucking tour. “If you need anything, just hit ‘1’ on the phone and it’ll come straight to me. The other extensions are laid out in the book you’ll find in the top left desk drawer. By the way, I’m Anthony,” he extended his hand and I shook it after I juggled my far too heavy messenger bag and keyfob badge into my other hand. “Good luck.” And with that ominous offer, he shut the door behind himself and I let go of the loud dramatic sigh that I’d felt building since standing inside of our acting deputy director’s office. 

I was reading through the files when my desk phone rang. Absently picking it up, I answered with my standard greeting and heard Grace Mallory’s voice reply.

“Ah, good, you’re in already. I’ll be by in a few minutes, I think we should talk about what’s expected of you, Dr. Taylor.” I agreed, replacing the handset and thinking how easily the receptionist and Mallory had taken to the first title I’d earned in my life. No hesitation, no confusion, just ‘Dr. Taylor’. I wished everyone found it so simple. 

Grace Mallory had full reign over the offices, as she proved when she keyed herself into mine. I looked up and smiled. The older woman, mentioned in my research on the others, was easy to read. She took one of the chairs in front of my new desk. I closed the file I’d been going over before she’d come in, and waited. 

Rueful smile playing on her lips, eyes shrewd, she took her time studying me. “You’re not excited that I asked for you to be here.” I didn’t feel the need to answer, since it wasn’t a question. “I read what you compiled on them, I still have access to certain parts of the agency.” Again, not a question. “I wanted you to act as the liaison because you saw through it. The image that everyone else saw, or thought they saw with them.” Him, I could see she meant, the others were important certainly, but I was obviously here to reign in only one. “You don’t get intimidated easily, that I learned from YOUR file.” I was guessing she meant the few times I’d bucked up against what was clearly the wrong tactic or wrong idea being forced on me and my fellow officers by our superiors. “You’ve also done this before.” Damn it, fuck my experience with that fucking black ops group that I had to rehabilitate after their fall from grace in Bolivia. “I’m more than sure that you’re the best person for this job.” 

She outlined it. I was the go between, since Raynor was no longer at the CIA to grease the wheels so to speak, I was to act as the person to keep the agency in the loop of progress or planned operations. And, before she left, she finally admitted that my REAL job was to make sure that William Butcher didn’t go off the rails to the point that the entire operation would go ass over tits. 

“The appeal of having you oversee this, Dr. Taylor, isn’t simply that you did those profiles on them that was the first to question the validity of the charges against them, but that you have a background in-” She paused to consider what she wanted to say. “You’re a psychologist. That, coupled with your experience with the other team you pulled through, well you can see why I had to insist you fill this role.” 

“I understand that you think I’m the logical choice,” I closed my eyes, wondering just how I could explain to her that I felt wrong for the work that she wanted me to undertake. “I just don’t think that I-”

“That you’re the person who can keep him even keeled?” Opening my eyes I saw that she was standing and smiling down at me. “Just because no one else seems capable, Dr. Taylor, doesn’t mean that no one is.” With that parting shot, she too wished me well, and then left my office. 

Biting my lip, I reopened the file I’d left off on while Grace Mallory had given me her expectations. I hoped like hell that she was right, because there were times that William Butcher, and like dominoes his team, caused far more fucking chaos than they stopped.


	2. Ulcers. I Was Doomed To End Up With Ulcers.

It was my third day in my new office when I had my first face to face with the ‘team’ I was expected to supervise, babysit, or otherwise keep on task. They didn’t all show up together, Marvin, who told me to call him “Mother’s Milk, or M.M.” came first. Then Frenchie, he insisted he preferred the moniker to his ‘real name’, walked in with Kimiko. Finally, making a late entrance, alone, because I knew that Hughie had taken a position with Victoria Neuman, came my actual charge. William “Billy” Butcher. He was more imposing than M.M. And I could see him studying me with a sneer on his face. Great. Fun.

“Everyone take a seat, please.” I’d asked Anthony to round up extra chairs, and I even stopped before coming in to pick up coffee, juice, and pastries. If I was babysitting, fully fed children behaved better than hungry ones, I recalled from past experience. “Grab something to eat, take a drink, and we can-”

“Are we gonna have story time too?” I closed my eyes and found myself counting to ten. “Gonna pat our bums and put us all down for a nap?” Another slow ten count and I felt it was safe to open my eyes.

“Mr. Butcher,” my lips were barely moving and in the back of my fucking head I was trying to think of an illness that would get me out of this fucking assignment without losing my status in the agency. Fuck. “I thought, since it’s our first meeting, that perhaps breakfast would be warranted.” Fuck you, asshole. I felt a flush of guilt for thinking it. He’d been through a shit ton of bullshit, Veronica, I reminded myself. 

He snorted, didn’t take a chair, but also didn’t keep offering snotty fucking comments. Kimiko carefully selected a flaky turnover, and sat down with a napkin and a cup of juice. The other two men also chose something to eat, M.M. carefully sanitizing his hands first, and taking more than ample time to cover the corner of my desk he was nearest with a layer of napkins before sitting his danish dead center. A cup of coffee close by, and I thought about how right I’d been about his OCD. Frenchie took a moment longer to choose, clearly having a very low opinion of the offerings, but he made due.

“I’m sure that Mallory told you who I am, but I’m glad we could meet before we delve into the purpose of-” I heard his hiss of air that was almost another snort, but not quite, it was still clearly a sound of disbelief that they were stuck with me. Same, mister, same.

“You’re here to watch us so we don’t get out of line,” I didn’t have to look at him to know he had rolled his eyes. “And you’re a ‘doctor’,” it came out as pure fucking snark and I had to stop myself from launching a cruller at his fucking head. 

“I’m a CIA officer, Mr. Butcher, just like-” I stopped, and let out a long breath. “Yes, I am a doctor, I’m a psychologist, AND I’m most definitely your fucking handler.” Why beat around the bush? I finally looked up and locked eyes with him. “Yours in particular.” 

The others had watched our tiny exchange like it was an exciting tennis match. All eyes were on him as they waited to see what he’d lob back at me. He said nothing, his mouth set in a sneer, his eyebrows furrowed, but he was fucking silent.

The rest of the ‘meeting’ went smoother, if only because he kept his mouth shut. I gave each member, aside from Billy, a card with my cell phone number on it. We set up a schedule to meet regularly, and then after they finished their breakfast, the others left.

I heard M.M. warn Billy to keep his head, but I thought that was a losing battle. If Butcher had been wound tight before, I could almost see the tautness of his strings now. He waited, until the door closed behind Kimiko before stalking to my desk. If he’d hoped for a flinch from me, he was left wanting. His nostrils were flared and I could almost see the churning of his thoughts and words in his head. Huffing out another breath, he sat in the seat that M.M. had vacated. 

“A babysitter,” he snarled, eyes locked on mine. “She thinks I need a bloody babysitter.” 

“She thinks you need a steadying influence,” I tossed back with a shrug. “Your behavior will make or break this little endeavor, and if you want the supes under control, then you’ll play nice.” His stare grew shrewd. 

“Maybe I don’t want them controlled, maybe I want them six feet under.” His voice was like gravel. 

“Then you’ll definitely need to play nice,” I offered, leaning back in my chair. “No one is going to sit idly by while a renegade vigilante murders,” his glare grew if possible from the term. “To the outside it would look like murder, you do understand that, right?” Another flare of his nostrils and I was tempted to roll my eyes and ask if I should hide whatever he saw that was red behind me. “If someone takes out the glory that are supes, WITHOUT EVIDENCE, then the public would lose their collective shits, even you have to get that.” I shook my head. “They need to be regulated, even the public and their fans can agree with that. And they definitely need to face consequences for the shit they fuck up-”

“Like Homelander?” He bit out. “They blame Stormfront for everything, and then a press conference announcing that everything is all spiffy because his ass is right where it should be.” I waited, he needed to vent, and I was his in house therapist. “He’s never going to be held accountable unless-”

“Unless you take him out on your own?” I tilted my head to see if he understood how bad of an idea that was. “You and your team JUST got vindicated and cleared, why would you want to stir that pot already?”

He almost growled at me. “Maybe because he fucking-” He stopped, trying to get himself under control, but I could see it was a close thing. “He’s not who everyone thinks he is.” 

“He raped your wife. Got her pregnant with a supe baby. And now she’s dead.” It was a summary leaving out a huge chunk of his issues with Homelander, but I didn’t want his fucking head to explode. “Shouldn’t Vought be held accountable too?” I had wondered about this, when I’d first started looking into Butcher and his cohorts. Vought was the source of the madness, why not take the company down. I knew that Raynor had tried, I’d been in the room when she confronted the Stillwell woman, but I knew that it wasn’t Butcher’s focus, that was simply his bargaining tool.

“I gave the CIA all the evidence to take them down,” yeah, implying that we dropped the ball, which we did, but it still made little sense to me. “It’s personal with me and him.”

I nodded, I knew that too. “Yes, and yet, it’s like the worst dance you’ve ever been engaged in, isn’t it?” He was still studying me, but he didn’t look ready to wrap his hands around my throat now. Progress. “Work within the parameters, and there will be a fucking route to him, I know it.” I couldn’t explain HOW I knew it, I just felt it. “Look, I’m not going to ride your ass, or hold your fucking hand. I just have orders to make sure that you don’t end up on a fucking wanted poster again, alright?” 

I could have sworn that his eyes twinkled at some part of what I said. “Gotta admit, my mug looked damn good on those posters.” And then he stood up and was gone. Jesus, this man was going to fucking give me ulcers, I knew it.


	3. If A Psychologist Ends Up Committed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I'm going to admit that I haven't read the comics that the show is based on. I tried, honest I did, but I'm not really a comic book reading type of person (I will keep trying, I promise). 
> 
> That being said, I'm taking liberties with the story line, obviously. I have to think that just because we know about the successful cases of Compound V, doesn't mean that all the subjects given it (babies especially) would survive it. Also, since my character is working in this new Office of Supe Affairs, I have to believe that part of her job would be to find out all she could about those subjects, successful or not. 
> 
> As for the subtle flirting, well I like to think that eventually Billy Butcher would start to lighten up around her, I mean she's trying to keep him in line, sure, but she's also pretty easy going. Most of her irritation is internal, but she has tells, like her calling him Mr. Butcher when she's trying to remind him to be professional and to show that she'd love to toss a hard object at him, but she is a professional.

Somehow, by some amazing miracle, Billy Butcher and I did not implode and take out the building we used as headquarters during the two months we’d coexisted. Did he still bristle anytime I tried to offer a less extreme tact for one of his plans? Yes. Did he look like he was considering tossing my short ass out the fucking window as often? No.

I was on the phone with the still acting deputy director when he walked into my office’s open door. I hated having to jump up every fucking time someone came to speak to me, so I kept it propped open with a door jam most of the day. He looked like thunder, but I was in the middle of learning another fucking assignment that the higher ups felt fell under my new position’s heading. 

“Are you sending the files over digitally or am I going to have to-” she told me that she was sending them via courier and I told her I’d be waiting. I hung up and looked up at the storm that was waiting to be unleashed. “Yes, Mr. Butcher?” 

He started to pace and rant, and the jist of it was his irritation that he was running into walls when it came to dealing with one of the administrative shills that we were stuck with for reports or updates to reports. “How am I supposed to plan any fucking thing if Kevin in-” and on he went. I let him vent, waiting the rush of words out, until he finally seemed to hit the end of his stride. “What are you gonna do to fix it?” His eyes locked on mine where he was hovering in front of my desk. 

“Me?” Sitting back, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m confused about why you came into my office thundering instead of thundering to Kevin?” His lips quirked into a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “Is this THE Billy Butcher showing maturity in how he deals with an irritating situation?” My tone coupled with the mock surprise did it. He laughed and it changed his entire bearing. 

“Aren’t you the one who told me to calm my tits?” I snorted at the imagery of his uptight tits. “Here I am, calming my-”

“Tits, yes, I got the picture firmly in my head.” I shook my head. “Of course I want you to not fly off the handle and blow up anyone who is causing you frustration, but I assure you, unless you planned to throw Kevin off the roof of the building for his lack of skills, I’m fine with you giving him hell. Just hold back on the urge to light him on actual fire, ok?” I could swear the twinkle in his eyes was back. I’d seen it flash here and there over the course of two months, but it made me grin almost every single time. I say almost, because I tended to get heartburn when it came after me forcing a promise from him to NOT go to extreme measures. 

“Toss him off the roof?” He shook his head and the smirk turned to a grin. “Thought you knew me better than that, Doc.” And then he was gone again. Shit. I REALLY hoped I wouldn’t have to write an incident report on Kevin, wait, did we even have a Kevin on staff here?

We didn’t have a Kevin on staff. His name was Joseph, and he was in my doorway not an hour later looking like he’d seen a ghost. Smiling in what I hoped was a reassuring way, I invited him into my office. He looked like a scared mouse, his eyes glancing at my open door.

“You can close it, if that would make you feel more comfortable?” I offered, and he nodded and nudged the door jam out from under the door and let it click shut. “Now, Joseph, what has you in such a flutter?”

He haltingly told me about his run in with Billy Butcher, swallowing often and eyes darting around my office like he expected the man to hop out from behind a bookshelf and throttle him. I sighed as he painted a picture of the man, the myth, the pain in my ass scaring this poor report jockey shitless. Once he was finished, eyes still flickering around the room, Adam’s apple bobbing with every hard swallow, I sat back in my chair.

“Did he put his hands on you?” He shook his head, but looked confused by the question. “I need to know when I reprimand him, you see, if he was physical with you that would have to be addressed, Joseph.” A nod to show he understood. “He verbally threatened you?”

“He said,” a gulp and more eye darting, “that he’d ‘toss my sorry ass off the roof’ if I didn’t make things simpler during his requests, but-”

I had to swallow my laughter. The asshole had used my words against me. Fucker. “But?” I managed to choke out.

“There are procedures that we have to go through, you know that Dr. Taylor.” He was pleading, begging almost for me to understand his hands were tied. And I had a flash that if we didn’t fix the situation, his hands WOULD be tied, and his ass might end up in the ocean. 

I sighed again. “I’m well aware of the procedures, Joseph.” Rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck, I considered how to make everyone happy and safe. Or at least happier and not dealing with a chance of ending up fish food. “I suppose that Mr. Butcher can start running his needs and requirements past me, and then I can run them up the flagpole.” Joseph looked relieved and I felt a burning in my chest starting to grow. I was going to end up with a fucking medical condition from all the extra fucking stress and shit I was putting my ass through. Damn it. “Go, Joseph. I’ll let Mr. Butcher know that I’ll be his-” another sigh. “I’ll take care of it.” Dismissed, he started for the door. “Don’t replace the jam, please.” I needed quiet and fuck it if I had to get up and answer the damn knocks for awhile. 

I called Billy in for another meeting later that day. I swore I could hear his fucking grin over the phone and nearly growled when he told me he’d see me soon. Fucker. I was up to my elbows in boxes and boxes of files that the couriers had delivered soon after Joseph had left when a knock sounded on my still closed door. 

Groaning, I made my way barefoot to the door and opened it. There he stood, the smug bastard, and as I turned to go back to the desk, ignoring the dozen boxes that I’d been sitting with on the floor.

“Cute toes,” he mentioned, and I rolled my eyes. “Didn’t take you for a red polish kind of-”

“Cut the shit, Billy.” I gestured to the empty chairs in front of my desk and he took one. “You’ll be happy, I’m sure, to know that I will be handling ALL of your op requests personally now.” His smile grew and I had to fight picking up a stapler and tossing it at his head. “Thought you weren’t thinking about tossing his ass off the roof,” I raised an eyebrow and he had the fucking nerve to laugh.

“I wasn’t, that was YOUR idea, Doc.” His smile held. “Worked, didn’t it?” Shaking my head I watched as he took in my new additions. “What’s all this?”

Giving a truly forced smile of my own, I let out another sigh. “This,” I offered, standing and walking back to the spot I’d been sitting in when he knocked, “is the rest of my new assignment.” Leaning down, I pulled a file from the first box I came to. “Matthew Alexander Rogers, born May 3, 1998. Given his first dose of Compound V days after his premature birth, after Vought convinced his parents that it would not only aid in his health issues, but make him stronger. Died July 6, 1998 when his heart gave out from the strain of his newfound strength.” I put it carefully back in the box it came from and pulled a file from the box next to it. “Joann Sylvia Constantine. Born September 3, 1978. Codename Angel. Current whereabouts unknown. Powers of flight, strength, and-” I tossed the file back into the box I pulled it from. “Seems that I’ll be dealing with the supes that AREN’T part of the Seven and ones that didn’t survive the dosage.” 

“There are at least a-”

“Dozen,” I nodded and moved back to my desk. Ignoring my chair, I perched on the surface closest to Billy. “There are a round dozen boxes, I had to sign for them.” I knew my shoulders were slumped, but it was overwhelming how many babies and children had died from Vought’s bullshit. “They aren’t sorted by any discernible means. Birth, death, names. None of those are used to put them in order. I could have just as easily pulled three files from three different boxes that all told of dying children or babies. They fucking experiemented on babies, Billy, with no proof that the outcome would be successful.” I shook my head and felt the weight of it all. 

“And I just added to your fucking load with-” I rolled my eyes. Now he considers my load. “Doc, if I have to, I’ll go back to dealing with Kevin.”

“Joseph.” I corrected him and he looked confused. “His name isn’t Kevin, it’s Joseph.” Hopping off the desk, I went back to my chair. “It’s fine, Billy, I can handle it, I just hate reading those fucking files and seeing people die so Vought could create a new fucking species.” 

“Makes you wanna burn the entire fucking operation down, don’t it?” I shook my head. “Come on, Doc, you know the more you read them files, the more likely you’re gonna come down on my side of the fucking debate.” Shit, I knew he was right, but I couldn’t go rogue. Not my fucking job.

“Acting on wants isn’t necessarily the best course of action, Billy.” I pulled a legal pad from one of my drawers and uncapped my pen. “Now, tell me what you were willing to threaten Joseph over so I can work magic to make some of it happen.” 

Once I finished the list, handing it to him so he could confirm it, I stood to walk him to the door. Still barefoot, and he took notice. “Your toes are still pretty damn adorable, Doc,” looking up at him, I caught him licking his lips. Ew, don’t be a weird foot fetish guy, I thought, but shot it down. What did it matter what William Butcher’s kinks might be? His eyes met mine and for once I didn’t feel irritation, I felt an entirely new twist in my gut and nearly groaned. Nope, not happening, Veronica. Not him. Any fucking one but him. “Gonna have to visit more often to see what else you toss off to get comfy in here.” Shit. 

“Just the shoes, Mr. Butcher,” I opened the door and nearly sighed in relief as he started to leave. I could feel the heat from him as he walked past me, but then his hand touched my arm and my eyes shot back to his face. 

“You only call me ‘Mr. Butcher’ when you’re trying to knock back your irritation with me, Doc.” his fingers were still on my arm, and I was trying to focus past the feel of it to listen to what he was saying. “It’s Billy, just Billy.” I swallowed and nodded with what I hoped was a smile on my lips. 

“Veronica, then,” I offered back. “‘Doc’ reminds me of Bugs Bunny.” He smiled, but his fingers didn’t leave my skin. I felt like his touch was burning me. “I have a lot of work to do,” leave, please, so I can freak out in private. 

“So do I, Ronnie.” And then his hand and he was gone. I closed the door behind him, and leaned against it to try to make sense of what the fuck just happened. 

No flirting with him, Ronnie, I thought. Then growled when I realized that I just used the nickname he’d given me to address myself and then really growled when I noticed that I was having an entire internal debate with myself. Fuck. I was going to end up committed by the end of this assignment.


	4. Mother's Milk, Blue Toes, and Lunch

I managed to work through the first box of files over the course of the rest of the week. A daunting task, reading through statistics on babies, children, and then adults who were either dead or missing. I finally found a rhyme and reason to the sorting when I opened the second box. These files appeared to be confirmed successful cases, with the current locations for the subjects unknown. Jotting down names, last locations known, and the more worrisome powers that they had so that I could find out what the agency wanted our office to do with the information, thinking we’d be tasked with at least attempting to locate them. I had to wonder though, how the fuck did Vought manage to lose people they gave powers to?

I had to assume the boxes were sorted by dead, living and lost, and maybe living and located since the regular sorting systems weren’t being used. I grunted at the knock that came on my door frame while I was again on the floor surrounded by boxes.

“That doesn’t seem comfortable,” MM offered, looking down at me as I set aside the file I’d been taking notes from.

I smiled up at him, thankful for a fucking reprieve. “It’s more comfortable than that desk chair. Ergonomic my ass.” I stood up and took a seat in one of the chairs usually reserved for visitors. MM sat next to me. “What’s going on?” I learned very early in my career to NEVER ask what I could do for a visitor to my office. Offering that opening, I’d be inundated with a thousand requests and my head would start spinning.

“I have a few family things coming up,” I nodded, knowing about his wife and daughter. “Billy hasn’t mentioned anything on the table, but I wanted to make sure that my absence wasn’t going to cause problems.”

Smiling at him I shook my head. “No problems, MM, at least none that I’m aware of. Take care of yourself and your family.” He looked like he was chewing on something, trying to decide whether or not to bring whatever it was up. “Is there more?”

“You two-” he stopped, took a breath and then tried again. “You and Butcher don’t seem to be having the same friction as you did in the beginning.”

Ah, he was thinking that I may have or WE may have crossed a line? “I think we’ve just grown to understand the best way to communicate with one another.” I worried that my smile was slipping. “Billy isn’t as-” I contemplated what Billy wasn’t any longer. “I think he’s come to terms with the fact that you’re all stuck with me, and that I’m NOT the enemy.”

MM nodded, his eyes shrewd. “And the fact that you look like,” he motioned toward me with his head. “Doesn’t hurt.” I rolled my eyes. “He mentioned the red toenails.” I snorted, and his eyes went to my feet and I wanted to scream about weird foot fascinations. “I’ll have to tell him you changed to blue.” He smiled at me when our eyes met and I shook my head. “I should let you get back to-” his eyes landed on the boxes. “He said they’re Vought files for supes that didn’t survive, or that weren’t kept track of.”

“There might be files in boxes I haven’t gotten to of the ones whose current whereabouts are known, but it’s slow going.” I sighed, and MM rose to his feet.

“Guess we’ll have work to do soon enough then,” he left after telling me goodbye and thanking me for understanding his need for time off. And I went back to my nest in the middle of the boxes and got back to work.

Billy was waiting outside my office door when I arrived the next morning and I had to hold in a long suffering sigh. I hadn’t even gotten started and I feared my day was heading low very fast. Grunting a ‘morning’ to him, I used my fob to open the door and let him follow me inside.

“Don’t look like a morning person, Ronnie,” he offered, looking far more comfortable in the chair he took in front of my desk than I felt in mine. I was waiting to see if he was planning on propping his booted feet on the surface, but he didn’t. “I’ll wait while you get comfy.”

I rolled my eyes and tilted my head. “I’m comfy enough already, Mr. Butcher.” His smirk grew into a full blown grin. “What is it you need?”

Pulling out a legal pad and grabbing a pen, I looked up to see him shaking his head. “Nothing.” Raising my eyebrow, I stared at him. “MM told me he was taking some family time, and I thought I’d check in and make sure we didn’t have something coming on.”

Tossing my pen down, I leaned back and cursed internally at the fucking chair that I’d been given. Seriously, the floor was a thousand times better. I stood up, giving up on the fucking chair and moved around the desk to sit in the one next to Billy. He was still grinning and I had to fight my urge to find the stapler again.

“You guys are in a holding pattern, for now,” I hadn’t had anything cross my desk to give them, so for the present everyone was just working on prep for when the first assignment hit. “The equipment you requested was approved. It’ll be delivered in the next couple of days.” No one up the chain of command had blinked at the requests.

“What about those?” He nodded to the boxes and I sighed. “We’re all literate as far as I know.” I laughed at his assurance and offer to help.

“I have no doubt that you can read,” I considered what he was saying, really considered it. “It couldn’t hurt, since I’m only one box down and I still have eleven to go.”

“Let’s get started then,” he stood up and lost the duster. “Coming?” I was still seated and blinking up at him. Now?

  
We worked until lunch, after I’d handed him a notepad and pen, tossed off my shoes and got into the middle of the boxes. Scribbling down the notes, and explaining to Billy what I thought would be most pertinent, he offered his own ideas of what they might need to stay safe while tracking the lost. We worked quietly after he’d moved a few boxes and sat nearby, effectively widening my nest.

“Hungry?” I asked, feeling the grumble start in my own stomach. I finished the note I was making and looked up to see his eyes on the toes he could see peeking out from my crossed legs.

“He told me they were blue now,” his eyes met mine and I rolled my eyes. “I could eat.” My mind and body flashed to Billy Butcher eating something far more pleasurable than whatever I planned on ordering for lunch and I had to punch the thought down. Shit.

“What are you hungry for?” Fuck, did that sound like I was flirting? Please, God, don’t let him think that I was flirting.

His smirk returned, coupled with that fucking mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Oh, I could eat anything right now.” And as if I had any doubts as to what he was thinking, his eyes roamed down my body. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Burgers it is.” I stood up, and fought the full length tingle I felt run down my body at the thought of Billy fucking Butcher laying me down on my desk and eating me for lunch. Picking up the phone, I asked Anthony for a few menus so Billy and I could order food.


	5. All Work And No Play Makes Ronnie...

Having lunch with William Butcher wasn’t something I’d seen coming when I walked into the building and found him waiting outside my office. I’d thought I’d hear more thundering irritation at one of the other minor annoyances that he might have encountered with a random lower level agent in the building or an administrative person who looked at him funny. Instead, we were sitting on the visitor’s side of my desk, using the desktop as a table as we ate burgers and fries.

I could have shaken my head at the absurdity of it, but I had to admit, it was an improvement.

“Why blue?” I blinked at the abrupt question, since we’d been eating in silence. Blue? Oh, toes.

I shrugged, chewing the bite I’d taken carefully and swallowing before I tried to answer. “Got tired of the red.” Absently wiggling my toes, still barefooted because it was MY office after all. “You seem kind of focused on feet, Mr. Butcher.” I smirked around my straw since he had just taken his own bite. “Are you one of those weirdos that hordes amputated feet?” He nearly choked and my smile grew.

“Couldn’t wait until I swallowed, could ya?” He took a drink from his own cup and stared at me the entire time. “No amputated feet collection, Doc.” I rolled my eyes as he hit me with his version of my ‘Mr. Butcher’. “Not into feet at all, actually.” Raising an eyebrow I bit into a fry. “Your toes, on the other hand, draw my attention.” 

“Maybe I’ll pick clear polish next time and you won’t be distracted by them.” I offered when my mouth was empty. He shook his head as he chewed. 

“Be a damn pity,” I was licking a drop of sauce off my lower lip as he said it, and his eyes were focused on the movement. “Then again, I can always be distracted by something else.” Shit.

Lunch was finished before we knew it, and I would love to say we didn’t keep up with the flirting, but that would be coloring the truth just a bit. I told myself it was nothing. Friendly even. I mean, it’s not like Billy Butcher and I would EVER be attracted to one another. He was grieving for fuck’s sake.

We were back on the floor, Billy insisting we move the boxes closer to the desk so we could use the front of it to lean against. “Back’s gonna end up in fucking knots,” he assured me if we kept hunching over the files without support. Side by side, file by file, we worked.

I don’t think I would have noticed the time slipping by if he hadn’t mentioned it. I was in the zone, almost robotic in the precision once I got the rhythm going. He’d been working in the same way, quiet and efficient, so when he spoke it almost caused me to jump out of my skin.

“What time do you usually pack it in?” After I was certain my heart hadn’t leapt from my chest, I looked at my watch. 

“An hour ago,” I answered with a chuckle. A glance at the window showed me that the sky was dark, the skyline a scattering of lights. “I’ve kept you late, I’m sorry.” I started to get up, but he stopped me with his hand on my wrist. How could the touch of his fingers on my skin feel like a brand?

“I offered, and I’ll keep at it with you as long as you want.” My eyes met his and I struggled to find a name for the color I saw. Grey seemed too dull, steel too hard. “Though we might want to grab something to eat, been hours since lunch.” As though my stomach was waiting for someone to say it, a loud rumble made me laugh. “See.” He smirked, shooting a glance at where my shirt tucked into my pants. 

I shook my head. “We’re finished for the night,” he stood up first, and helped pull me to my feet. “We made a good dent in the boxes.” And we had. We’d finished a box each, and were on the second when he noticed the time. I walked around my desk to fetch my heels and my jacket, and saw that he was pulling on his duster and waiting. “I carry a gun, Billy, you don’t have to wait.” 

“I know I don’t have to,” he said, not moving. “But I’m going to anyway.” 

Sliding into my heels and tugging on my jacket, I grabbed my bag and badge from where I tossed it onto the desk earlier. “If you insist,” we walked out together, Billy taking me to my car and I asked him where he’d parked. He pointed to the other side of the lot so I told him to get in and I’d drive him over. He was going to argue, I could see it in his face, but I stopped him. “Get in the damn car, Mr. Butcher.” Smirking, he complied. 

He seemed to fill my SUV, which seemed strange given the fact that I practically had to bring a ladder to get into it, and my seat was adjusted so close to the steering wheel that valets couldn’t even give it an attempt without readjusting it first. 

“You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you?” He offered, looking over at me perched in the seat. I rolled my eyes and drove him to his car. “Why’d you pick such a big-”

“Size matters, right?” I asked, and FELT his smirk. “I don’t know, honestly.” Sure you do, Veronica, my brain answered. You picked it because your father told you a hybrid smart car would be JUST right for you since you’re so petite and ladylike. So you went to a dealership and picked out the biggest SUV you could find that had all the features you wanted. Ugh, parent issues. “Here you are.” He didn’t jump out like I expected him to, after spending all day staring at paperwork I really thought he’d be chomping at the bit to find something more entertaining to end the day with. 

“Tomorrow?” He asked, and I smiled. 

“If you’re offering, then I’ll accept the help gladly.” His smile, like his laugh, changed his entire look. From the slightly dangerous, yet highly mischievous man that smirked and snarked, to handsome as hell and dangerous in a completely different way. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Billy.”

“Be here with bells on, Ronnie.” And then, like always, he was out of my car and in his car. He never said goodbye, I realized. How strange. 

When I got to my house, far enough outside the city that my mother had warned me about being too far from civilization, I was surprised to notice that I didn’t feel the tension built up in my entire body that had become something of a constant companion as of late. Maybe Billy was right, sitting in the middle of the room with no back support had given my pain and frustration. Who knew he could be so helpful?


	6. POP Goes The...

When the new Office of Supe Affairs was created, the controversial actions of most of the known supes had died down. Only one new case of head popping happened after Stormfront was dead and gone, but the public was kept unaware and I only learned about it when Mallory came to visit me while Billy and I were working on the Vought files. 

We were propped against the desk, the door was propped open, and I had my legs straight out in front of me with my bare toes pointed at the ceiling as we worked. A faint knock on the open door refocused my attention. 

“Dr. Taylor,” Mallory’s eyes took in the scene before her and I could tell she was pleased. “Billy.” 

I started to get to my feet, but she stopped me. “No need. And I’m happy to see you here, saves me a trip.” This last part was directed to Billy. “I had to wait to get confirmation, from someone inside, but we may have a problem.” 

We watched as she pulled one of the visitors’ chairs close to where we sat and took a seat. She sighed, her eyes more focused on Billy than me. “Alastair Adana was found dead in his office right after the announcements were made for the founding of this office.” Adana was the head of the Church of the Collective, shit. Before I could ask for a cause of death, she answered. “Like the others during the hearing.” Head bursting was becoming the new popular way for supes to kill, or at least one supe. “The Church is saying that he’s on an extended missionary something or another.” An unladylike snort left her and I had to agree with the sentiment. 

“Wait,” I realized an issue with this news that was probably the point of her visit, but Billy cut me off by literally completing my thought.

“That means it wasn’t Stormfront.” He growled, on his feet faster than a man his size should have been able to move. “I fucking knew it.” I couldn’t tell if he was feeling vindicated or homicidal. Since it was Billy Butcher I was watching, it might be both. 

I stayed on the floor, waiting for his pacing and ranting to start, but it was far worse. He stood stock still and calm. Completely focused on a goal and with a flash I truly knew what his goal was. Getting to my feet and stood in front of him. “No.” One two letter word, but I knew it could be more powerful than a weapon. His eyes bored into mine, but I stood firm. “No.” 

Mallory gave her parting, telling me that she’d be in touch, and I had a feeling she wanted to give Billy space. I heard the door shut behind her and silently thanked her for closing it so there were no witnesses if I had to Taser his ass and cause him to urinate all over himself. 

“Doc, you HAVE to see it now.” He wasn’t pleading, oh no, William Butcher didn’t plead. Instead he was insulting my intelligence if I didn’t agree with him. Fucker. 

“I have to see what?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I have to see that you’re chomping at the bit to wage a war that we can’t win?” His eyes didn’t leave mine, but I could see him wanting to rebel against me. “How do you know it was him?” I tilted my head. IF he could give me some type of fucking proof that Homelander was behind it, then I’d sign off on the fucking kill order myself and walk it to headquarters and get it approved. He was chewing on words, trying to find what I was asking for, it was as clear as if I could crack open his head and read his thoughts.

“Distract me,” he growled. I blinked at him. “Come on, Doc, or I’ll-” He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to.

“OK,” I offered, taking the chair that Mallory vacated. “Let’s talk it over-”

He shook his head and knelt in front of me. “That’s not a distraction, Ronnie,” he was looking almost directly into my face, damn my shortness and his fucking giant stature. “Talk therapy isn’t gonna make me less likely to rush out and-” His hand cupped my cheek and my eyes widened. Fuck. “This,” he leaned closer, the heat of his body feeling like an inferno and his breath fanning my face. Then his lips met mine and I heard him groan at the light pressure he allowed himself. Pulling away so he could speak, “is what I need.” 

And then, far from the type of kiss that I’d thought Billy Butcher capable of, his lips met mine gently and tested to see if I was willing. My lips opened naturally, and he took that as an affirmative for his idea of a distraction, so his tongue slithered into the breach. This time it was me who made the noise. My hands found his head, sliding through his dark hair as my head tilted to give him better access. A growl came from somewhere deep inside of him and his hands were on my waist, pulling me off the chair and to the floor with him. I was on my back, Billy hovering over me when I snapped to my senses. What the literal fuck was I doing?

“We can’t,” I breathed, as his mouth left mine and began a lazy trail down my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, threatening or promising a nip when I said it. “Billy, this isn’t going to-” He nipped me then, not hard enough to hurt or break skin, but enough to get my attention and cause a rush of lust to hit me in all the wrong spots to get me back to the logical reasons we shouldn’t do what he clearly expected. 

He was pulling my blouse from my pants and my legs had wrapped around him on their own. I didn’t seem to have a say in what my body was going to do at this point, but then again, when his lips touched the curve of my breast that was pushed up by the cup of my bra I couldn’t be sure what my brain thought of the situation anymore. He rocked into my body, letting me feel just how hard he was and I moaned. 

His mouth came back to mine, licking inside, asking my tongue to dance with his. Of course, I accepted, what woman wouldn’t? I could swear I heard my mother’s voice whispering about how this was as bad of an idea as my one attempt at marriage, and LOOK how well that turned out. I felt like someone had dumped ice water on me. 

“Billy, stop.” I’d managed to pull my face away from his. “This isn’t-” He rocked his pelvis into mine and my eyes fell shut at the feeling. He didn’t fight fair. 

Just as he was about to argue his point, louder and far more actively than I think I was prepared for, my desk phone began to ring and then a knock came on my door simultaneously. “Damn it.” He growled, his eyes flashing with irritation at the outside world for keeping him from his distraction. I sighed. Whether it was in relief or not, I couldn’t say, my mind was in knots. “Might want to straighten your-” he gestured to my blouse when he helped me to my feet. Apparently he could half undress me, but not put me back together. Rolling my eyes and picking up the phone, I was tucking my blouse in and refastening my buttons as he opened the door.

Joseph stood at the door, and Mallory was on the phone. And just like that, Billy had new distractions.


	7. Interrupted In the Knick of Time...

Joseph looked like he’d like to swallow glass when Billy opened my office door and stood glaring down at him. I rolled my eyes and focused on Mallory’s voice coming through the headset of my phone. 

“The Church won’t be able to contain Adana’s absence forever, they’ll have to announce that he’s dead, but from what my source is telling me, they aren’t looking to make him a martyr, yet.” Of course not, the Church acted like a fucking rehabilitation for supes gone wild and it was a fucking con. “I know you have Vought’s files and you’re working through them. Have you come across anyone-”

“With the ability to do what this one seems capable of?” I had to be vague, I couldn’t be sure Joseph couldn’t hear me from his position at the door. “Not that I can think of, but I haven’t gone over Billy’s notes yet.” I sighed. “When this comes out-”

“It won’t.” Mallory sounded convinced. “The Church is bargaining for the same status as other churches, the tax free bullshit that organized religion always gets, but since it works under different structures, it’s been denied. They won’t make waves by making accusations, not while Vought is working hard to rehabilitate the Seven and Compound V.” She sighed and I felt another one of my own build. “We have to find out who this rogue supe is, Dr. Taylor, preferably before Billy goes-”

“Completely outside of the bounds of control?” The sigh I’d felt growing finally forced its way out of me. “I think I managed to-” I felt a blush burn on my face and couldn’t finish. There was no way I was going to tell Mallory or anyone outside of Billy and I just how I managed to calm him down. Nope. Not going to happen. 

“Yes, well, as long as he’s not making himself famous for domestic terrorism again, I’ll trust your methods.” Fuck. “Let me know if you find what we’re looking for in those files. A name, a location. Something that would let us get a bead on what the hell is going on.” I agreed and then hung up. 

“Joseph,” I forced my lips into a smile, walking to the door and stepping around Billy’s hulking figure. “What brought you to my office?” I watched the man swallow hard, his eyes darting at Billy and back to me. 

“I-” another gulp. “I came across this request from-” He was sweating and I came close to closing the door behind the two of us so Billy would be trapped in my office and the man in front of me would be more comfortable speaking, but it was MY office. “Here.” He thrust the paper into my hand and turned to rush away. Well, that was interesting.

“You terrified him,” I accused, turning to see the amusement on Billy’s face. Shaking my head I moved back to my desk as I read the request that Joseph deemed important enough to bring to my attention. My eyes roved down the paper and I grew confused. Why would anyone ask for- And then my eyes landed on the name of the person who requested it and I sat down in the chair that Mallory had used. I was trying to make sense of what I was reading. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he muttered, but I didn’t pay much attention. “What does it say?” I handed it to him and waited for him to read through it, while I was still turning it around in my head. “What the fuck?” 

“Why would they want to know where-” My eyes met his and I had to shut mine because I swore he was going to ask for more distraction, but he didn’t. Yet.

“He’s supposed to be kept safe and secured away,” he muttered, pacing. “I was told he would be.” I nodded, that was the deal. “Why would-”

“I don’t know,” I answered, reaching for my phone. “But I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen.” 

A call up the chain of command, telling them about the request that had been brought to my attention and wanting verification that the information requested would be denied, I felt marginally better when I hung up. Marginally. 

“Why would he run it through this office?” I asked, once the handset was back in the cradle. “Isn’t that tempting fate that you’d find out?”

“He wanted me to find out,” and I could see his point. “He knows I was recruited for this little endeavor, and he wanted to poke the bear.” 

“And did he?” I wanted to know if I needed to have Billy contained before we moved on with the next fucking shitstorm. 

“Am I asking for a distraction?” His eyebrow raised and I felt like Joseph must have, although I doubted that Joseph felt a twist of something dark and pleasant in the pit of his stomach and I definitely knew he didn’t have the memory of how it felt for Billy’s facial hair to burn my skin as he worked his mouth down my neck. Shit. “I’ll let you know when that cunt pokes me hard enough to need-” he licked his lips and his eyes were on mine. “I’ll let you know.” 

Somehow, maybe because there wasn’t a whole shit ton we could do with the hint of intelligence we currently had on the mystery supe who could pop people’s heads like a dart flying into a balloon at a carnival game, Billy and I managed to go back to working through the files from Vought. We worked just as quietly as we had before he’d asked for me to distract him. And I was trying very hard to NOT notice how close he was, or how his body heat seemed to invade my personal space. 

When lunch rolled around, I decided I didn’t want to eat in my office. I wanted to go at least a short distance away from the entire fucking situation. I didn’t assume he’d come with me, in fact, I thought I gave him an out to leave my company to do whatever it was he did when he had downtime. As we were seated by the hostess of one of my favorite restaurants, Billy across from me, I held back from asking why he didn’t take the escape from my company I’d offered.

Ordering was simple, since all we had to give our server was our drink orders. Chinese buffet, simple and as fast or slow as anyone cared to enjoy it, was what I’d picked. He seemed surprised by my choice, and confirmed it once we gave the waitress our drink preferences and moved to the steaming tables. 

“Didn’t peg you for a buffet fan, Ronnie,” he said, as we wandered up and down the offerings with our plates in hand. Shaking my head, I carefully filled my plate. 

Looking up, seeing Billy Butcher in a loud Hawiian shirt holding a plate in a buffet was a pretty fucking weird sight, and it caused me to smile. “Guess you don’t know me much, Billy.” I could hear the small snort he gave as he too filled his plate. 

Walking back to the table while he continued to peruse the offerings, I smiled as our server set our drink glasses down. Thanking her, I took my seat and waited for him. It didn’t take long, and there he was sitting across from me again. “You didn’t have to wait for me to get started,” he offered, taking up his utensils as I did the same. 

“Etiquette, hard to get past, Billy.” He studied me as I took my first bite. I was curious as to what fascinated him about what he was seeing, but with a shake of his head, he too tucked into his lunch.

As we ate, Billy started asking questions. Not work related ones, but ones that if I didn’t know better would make it seem like he was trying to get to know me better. “Why’d you pick the CIA?” His voice was quiet, and the dining room wasn’t full of people, so it wasn’t like we had an audience.

A shrug of my shoulder, my go to gesture, as I took a drink from my glass was my first answer, but he didn’t say anything else so I wasn’t getting off that easily. I sighed. “The FBI has an abundance of agents that can profile criminals, being one of a herd didn’t appeal to me. And actually, the CIA approached me.” They had, once I’d started being published more in journals and other media. My ideas on the inner workings of criminals weren’t that far off from known profilers, but my psychological background, coupled with the fact that I didn’t focus on serial killers, but on those people who committed differing atrocities helped highlight ways they could better utilize my abilities. 

“Why’d you become a doctor?” I snorted so hard a noodle nearly popped out of my nose. Taking a moment to compose myself as he stared at me like I’d lost my mind, I shook my head again. 

“If you ask my parents, I’m not a REAL doctor.” A distinction they make during every fucking dinner party they force my ass to attend. “I chose psychology because the inner workings of the human mind and the reasons for their behavior fascinates me.” The absolute truth. 

“Parents can be fucking useless.” He muttered, his understanding dripping through his voice. “Come from money?” He was looking at me as he took a bite, and I nodded. “Makes it worse, don’t it?”

I sighed around my own bite. When I knew that I could without shaming myself, or my mother, I answered him. “It makes it less agreeable than most people assume.” Like my ex husband for example. He really expected my inheritance to come fast and furious to me when we got married, but boy was he in for a shock. “They never seem to factor in the expectations that come with the perks.” 

His eyes were still on me as I ate and spoke, and I knew I should be uncomfortable with the attention, but it didn’t feel strange somehow. “You eat at places like this-” a gesture around at the simpler surroundings than my parents would appreciate, made me nod. “Drive a truck that’s HUGE, and you carry a gun.” Another nod from me. “I’m sure your mum and dad are just pleased as punch with all three.” 

I laughed at that. Maybe Billy Butcher was more than he seemed. Then again, I knew that, I’d written the fucking report on it. 

Lunch was pretty interesting, as was getting back to work after. The easiness we moved beside one another, pads and pens ready, working through each file made me wonder why it was this simple. I chose not to dwell on it. If Billy Butcher and I could coexist without friction, then I was more than willing to take it. Just not, you know, take IT. With friction. Shit.


	8. Clubs, Auctions, Peace

Sadly, after the day I had, I couldn’t just go home and relax. Instead, after Billy walked me to my truck and I drove him to his car, I was heading home to go through the notes we’d made in of the files we’d gone through so far. I wanted to be sure that we hadn’t accidentally missed the mention of the power to burst a person’s head into a gooey mess. 

I drove home using muscle memory, hoping against hope that I had something I could throw together for dinner when my cell phone rang through my blu-tooth system. Seeing my mother’s number didn’t make me feel excited, but I knew her well enough to know that if I ignored it, she would keep fucking calling until I wanted to throw the phone out a window. Not doable since my cell phone was the easiest way for work to contact me. Shit. 

“Hello, Mother.” I answered, hoping that my tone was mild and smooth. My mother would pounce on any change of tone, be it tired or miserable, and then she’d find a way to make the person feel worse. 

“You sound tired.” Fuck. “That job of yours is too stressful, Veronica. You should have-” I let her run on, all of the advice she and my father had given me that had fallen on my deaf and defiant ears. I wasn’t listening, and she noticed. “Veronica, are you listening to me?”

“Of course I am, Mother.” Don’t ask me what you just said, don’t do it. “I’m just trying to keep my eyes peeled so I don’t end up hitting anyone while riveted by our conversation.” 

“You’re driving?” Hello? Check the time, woman. “You should have said so, I would have let you call me back when you got home.” Her long suffering sigh came through as loud and clear as she expected her words to. “No wonder you’re distracted. I only reminded you that the club’s annual-” I nearly sighed. The Club. Fuck. I hated the club. Ugh. And I knew precisely what miserable event was coming up. 

“Do NOT sign me up again, Mother.” The irritation and warning clear in my voice. “I’m busy that day and night.” 

“Veronica Taylor,” I waited for her to build steam about my duties as the single daughter of my father, a leader in the blah blah blah. “If you aren’t included, tongues will wag, you know that.” 

And? “Mother, the tongues could fall out of their heads and roll on the carpet for all I care.” I could hear her sniff. “I am NOT going to be auctioned off for a mind numbing date with one of the most boring men in the world.” Been there, repeatedly, will NOT repeat. “So make my excuses, or have them call me and I’ll make them, but I won’t do it.” Never again. 

“Veronica,” she sighed on the other end and I nearly offered her the name of a good doctor to get an inhaler from. “You know that being a part of a family of our caliber means sacrifice. It isn’t as though we’re asking you to marry the winning bidder, it’s simply one meal.” Sure, one meal where I’ll be staring at my fork wondering if I want to lobotomize myself or my date. “And it’s too late anyway, you’re automatically signed up yearly. It’s part of being a single woman who is a member of the club.” Shit. Fuck. Damn it. 

“Then I’ll come down with a very debilitating illness.” I muttered, and she chuckled.

“You’d be auctioned in absentia, dear.” Fuck. “We had to do it with the Miller girl.” Twisted, that’s what rich people were, twisted. “She had appendicitis and the winner just had to wait until she was out of the hospital and capable of eating real food.” My mother said this like it was completely normal. And she wondered why I chose psychology. 

“Great. Just great.” I was turning into my driveway. “I have to go, Mother.” Drown myself in my bathtub, try auctioning off my corpse, I added in my head. 

“I’ll call you closer to the date with the details, Veronica.” I rolled my eyes and said goodbye. 

Inside my garage, engine off, darkness all around, I let my forehead fall to the steering wheel. Why did I suddenly really hope that something massively diverting would happen before I had to go through with the fucking auction? Like screw it, let the anonymous head popper take a shot at my fucking head. If I was nothing but goo, maybe my mother would let it go. 

I hadn’t found anything in the notes that Billy took. Nothing aside from the fact that he listed things in much the same way I did. No powers that would make head bursting at a distance logical. Eating a peanut butter sandwich, followed by a long hot bath, I got into bed and tried to relax. 

I almost managed it, until my eyes closed and I saw Billy Butcher hovering over me as his lips came closer. Fuck. I groaned, trying to force the image away, but as exhaustion hit me hard and fast, my imagination took over, and in my dreams we weren’t interrupted. 

I woke up and felt marginally rested. My bed looked like a tornado hit it, the sheets and comforter twisted and half off the bed. Pillows were tossed around, and I was nearly falling off the edge. At first I couldn’t imagine what caused me to destroy the bed, but in a flash I remembered my dreams, how real and hot they’d felt and the state of my linen made a hell of a lot more sense.

Taking a quick shower, throwing on another one of my work outfits, sliding my still blue toes into my heels, I grabbed my bag and keys and was out the door within the hour. Billy was waiting for me when I got in, and I tried not to blush when I remembered how my mind had filled in the blanks about what his fully clothed body looked like naked. 

“Looking a little pink in your cheeks, Ronnie,” he mentioned as I opened my office door. Fuck. “Something on your mind.” He sounded smug, but that could be my own imagination. It was pretty fucking good at concocting shit, after all. 

“Must be from the walk from the parking lot,” I offered, pulling out our notepads from my bag. “Nothing caught my eye on either of our lists, you want to take a look while I get started where we left off?” I handed the notepads to him and kicked off my heels. His eyes went straight to my toes. “Too much to do last night to change colors, Billy.” My voice was quiet, and when our eyes met the twinkle was back in his. 

He let his attention go to the notepads in his hands, and I got comfortable on the floor. I watched as he took off his duster with one hand, not allowing his focus to move from his work. Shaking my head, I pulled out the next file in the box we’d been working on the day before. 

Our routine returned when Billy handed me my notepad back, agreeing that nothing on either list had caught his eye, and he joined me on the floor. Backs against the desk, flipping through file after file, jotting the notes we needed on to our notepads, and working in near silence. Peaceful, unlike the evening I’d had. The thought nearly jarred me from my work. Billy Butcher working with me had become peaceful. Who the fuck would have thought that was possible?


	9. The Highest Bid Versus The Fastest Rescue

Files, files, and more files. Billy and I worked through box after box as the days passed. We filled one notepad each, and then a second. We were on the third book each, and still have four boxes left. The dead files, as I called them internally, weren’t of much use other than to show how many babies, children, and adults died for Vought’s urge to create supes. The successful, but whereabouts unknown boxes were helpful in the sense that they offered the scope of how many supes were in mingling in the world without any way to trace them, but none of the files we’d gone through so far had proven fruitful in the quest to name our unknown spree killer. 

The other files were successful and whereabouts known, and they were even less helpful. The names we’d found were ones that were easily verified. Through the supe pageants and Vought’s countrywide placement of supes in each state. Even without the chips that The Seven were given, and the other placed supes, the others tended to be known simply because a great deal of them craved attention. 

I moved to open the next box, but Billy stopped me. “We’re not working through lunch, Ronnie.” He pulled me to my feet and smiled down at me. “Here or-” Shrugging to show that I didn’t have a preference he smiled. “Out, then.” 

I was slipping into my shoes, rolling my eyes at his gaze focused on my toenails again. They were pale pink, I’d tried clear, white, purple, so I was giving this ‘natural’ one a try. So far, nothing forced his attention away. “I swear to God, one day I’ll find a color to make them boring to you.” He was chuckling as he led me to his car. 

Over the course of our work, and our mealtimes, we took turns picking the take out or restaurants. Today was Billy’s turn and he pulled into a diner that may have made my mother pause and grab some sanitizer. I’d been here before, so I knew that looks were deceiving, because they had the best burgers in the city. And the fries? Don’t get me started. 

Tucking into our meals, because I swear the owner could see us coming a mile away and it took no time to get our orders, Billy brought up a subject I’d just as soon forget.

“How many days til you go up on the block?” His eyes, as always, were locked on me. I groaned, and took a long drink. 

“Three,” the auction was on Saturday. And trust me, I’d tried everything to get out of it, including calling the club and threatening to cancel my membership. Didn’t work, since the very smug and condescending woman who answered informed me that my parents paid my membership fees and would never stop. Fuck. “Hey,” I brightened up and smiled. “Why don’t you ‘accidentally’ shoot me?” 

He snorted and spit a little of his own drink out thanks to my idea. “You always do that when I’m eating or drinking, Ronnie.” I handed him some napkins and he shook his head, but he was smiling. “I’m not gonna shoot you, even if there are days-”

“Oh, please,” I waved him off. “Our days aren’t anywhere near the irritating level they used to be, back when I wanted to throw my stapler at your head.” My tone sounded wistful and his eyes were twinkling. “Throw me a bone, Butcher, shoot me so I don’t have to go through with this archaic bullshit.” 

Friday came too soon, and I would have worked through the entire day and into the next night if I could have. Sadly, Billy seemed to be working against my hopes. “Up you get,” he said, right on the dot of the time I’d usually quit. Fucking traitor. “You got to get beauty sleep so you get the highest dollar, right?” I flipped him off as I slipped into my heels. “Is that ladylike, Veronica?” It was the first time he’d used my full first name and the sound of it made my heart thump harder. 

“Maybe if I’m not ladylike, they’ll kick me out,” I sounded breathless and sighed. “Then again, it might make me more alluring to these assholes.” He chuckled. “You could still shoot me.” Shaking his head, he led me out to my truck. He’d parked closer to me, as he started doing after the first week we worked together. 

“Go, try to enjoy yourself, and for fuck’s sake, Ronnie, fetch the highest price would ya?” I rolled my eyes and he grinned. “Woman like you should get it easily.” And then he was walking away, still not saying goodbye. 

The next evening I was putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup when my phone rang. I knew who it was before I glanced at the screen, but it didn’t stop my sigh. “Yes, Mother?” I answered. 

“Veronica, is that really how you answer the phone?” No, when it’s someone other than my mother, I’m polite, I thought. “We’re sending a car for you,” I started to protest but she cut me off. “That vehicle,” said in the same tone as one might ‘that dog turd’, “you drive is far too high up and I think a lady should exit a car with grace, not a jump.” My eyes were going to get stuck in the top of my head, I just fucking knew it. “Don’t rush, I just wanted you to know that the car will be there soon.” 

“Duly noted, Mother.” I used the tip of my finger to wipe away a speck of mascara that dared to smear. “I’m almost ready anyway.”

“I do hope you chose a suitable dress, and please tell me your toenails are a normal color?” I glanced down at my toes, the polish bottle called it ‘mermaid green’, so normal for The Deep? “Especially if you plan on wearing open toed shoes.” I glanced at the strappy heels I’d chosen and grinned. “I’ll never understand-” 

“If you don’t let me hang up, Mother, then I won’t make it within the required ‘decent’ arrival window.” She sighed, loud and long, but let me hang up. I rolled my shoulders and prayed against prayer that I would be one of the first on the block and that I could leave early.

A final look in the mirror once I had my shoes on confirmed that I looked presentable. The dress code for these things were always the same. Evening dresses, updos, and heels. Boring, boredom, bored. The dress I had on would make my mother sigh, but it looked good on me, and if I had to dress up then why not pick something flattering?

Held up by one thin strap, form fitting to the floor, with a slit showing ample leg (even if mine were short, they were toned). Black, because it was classic, and satin because I loved the way the fabric felt on my skin. The shoes I was happy to see, showcased the glittery green of my toenails. My makeup was only slightly more dramatic than I wore to work, my hair was twisted in contrasting waves into an updo. No jewelry, the dress needed no enhancement, but a small clutch with the usual necessities, including my house key, badge, office key fob, and cellphone. 

The driver was waiting in my driveway, and he quickly opened the door for me while I locked up. And even with all the attention I put into my appearance, I really fucking hoped the evening would end quickly. Really truly, please.

The club. What could be said about it? Pretentious. That was one word for it. Filled to the brim with smug, condescending assholes with too much money and not enough empathy worked too, though a bit wordy. The driver got to stay behind the wheel as a valet rushed forward to open my door. Stepping carefully out, I sighed. This was going to be a long night, I just knew it.

John Alan Erickson was the highest bidder for my company during a meal that I was more than certain would be more torture than a root canal without anesthesia. He looked exactly how every other man who had won the bidding for me in the past, just a touch older than the ones that came before. 

Tall, thin, wearing a well cut suit, and looking for all the world like a banker or something that would make my ears bleed as he inundated me with all the ins and outs of it during the meal I was now forced to share with him in the near future. I smiled through the introduction, knowing that I had at least two avid stalkers. My parents, standing just out of slapping range, watched as I nodded and smiled. Smile, nod, nod, smile. John didn’t need my active participation in the conversation, or monologue he was giving. I nearly danced out of my shoes when my cell phone rang loudly inside my clutch. Thank the fucking-

“Hello?” I answered, holding a single finger up to shush John who looked like he was going to tell me how rude I was to take a call during his speech. It was Billy Butcher and I felt like hugging him for telling me that I was needed at the office, pronto. “I’ll have to ask the driver my parents hired, but I should be there-”

“No need, Ronnie, I’m outside.” My smile grew. My fucking hero. “Tell those cunts that you have a prior engagement and get your ass outside.” 

“I’ll be there in a moment.” I offered the slimmest of excuses to John and my parents who had come over to smooth his ruffled feathers. “Work calls.”

“Honestly, Veronica,” my mother admonished, but too bad. “Couldn’t you just-”

“No, I can’t.” I was firm. “I have to go, it was nice meeting you, John. Mother will give you my number so we can finalize dinner plans.” And then, without another word, I left.

I didn’t run, although it was a fucking close one, and seeing Billy Butcher waiting in a car that was making the valets take second looks at make my grin grow. I didn’t wait for the valet to make up his mind about the car, yanking open the passenger door and getting in, I told him to get me out of there.


	10. My Knight In Shining...

Billy wasted no time in kicking up the dust that those slacking valets or the grounds man of the club didn’t sweep away, and I sat back in the seat with a satisfied smile. Taking a few moments to just relax and revel in being out of that mess, I finally asked what the issue was with work. He laughed, and I stared at him in confusion.

“Nothing.” I raised an eyebrow. “Shooting you would have been a mite much, but rescuing you as soon as you got ‘bought’ that was doable.” I asked him how he knew when the bidding on me had stopped and his smile grew. “Paid one of the waiters off, he gave me a call, and here I am.” 

“Thank you,” I sighed, truly relaxing now. No emergency, away from the club, I felt all my tension flow out. “I can go home, order pizza, and watch mindless television or a movie.” He chuckled again. 

“Your tastes run pretty tame compared to that group you just left.” I smiled and nodded, knowing he could see me out of the corner of his eye. “Gonna give me directions to your house?” 

I showed him the way, and we got there sooner than I’d expected when my night had begun. Feeling free and happy, I invited him to join me in my pizza at least. 

“Sure you don’t wanna be alone?” He was in my driveway, the headlights illuminating my garage doors, the porch light casting its own glow at my door. I shook my head. “Talked me into it.” 

I felt slightly self conscious when I realized that the dress I was wearing was far tighter than the pants and skirts I wore to work, and the slit, fuck’s sake that slit. Pushing away the reality that at some point as I climbed the steps to the front porch, Billy’s eyes would be on my ass, I managed to unlock the door and step back to invite him inside. 

Flipping on more lights as we moved further inside my house, I knew he was surveying his surroundings. “Your house is,” I turned to see him smiling. “Very you.” 

My grin was bright, I knew it had to be, because it was the exact opposite my parents had thought. He was right, my house was cozy and inviting. It looked nothing like the ice museum I was raised in, and it was far more humble than my mother and father expected for me. “Take a seat,” I motioned toward the living room. “Or grab a drink from the kitchen first,” he could see it through the open doorway leading from the dining room. “I need to change.” 

“You mean you don’t just lay about in that?” His eyes roamed my entire form, from the hair to the toes, lingering on the light dancing off the glitter in my polish. “Shame.”

Shaking my head and rolling my eyes, I started for my bedroom. “Get a damn drink, Butcher. I’ll be back in a minute.” His laughter followed me down the hall and I had to stop my hips from swaying because I knew he was watching me go. 

Hair down, comfortable pajamas on, I was laughing at the show Billy had picked on Netflix as we ate our pizza slices. He’d shucked his jacket, kicked off his boots, and was drinking one of the beers left over from the last guy I dated. Our eyes met in the flickering light of the television and I swallowed hard. 

“You didn’t have to come fetch me,” I told him as I gathered up the garbage before another movie could start. “Not that I’m not grateful, but I’m sure you had better things to do on a Saturday night than play knight to my damsel.” 

He grabbed the napkins and the bottles he’d emptied. “You distracted me, Ronnie, when I needed it most, least I could do was-”

I turned around from where I was tossing the plates in the sink and found him closer than I expected. “Quid pro quo?” His eyes landed on my lips and I felt a rush of something that I knew I needed to fight down. “Guess we’re even then.”

He shook his head, tossing the bottles into the recycling bin. “Not even close,” he muttered, closing the distance and tipping my head back with his finger under my chin, and then his mouth was on mine and I felt the breath leave my lungs. 

His mouth tasted like Italian spices, tomatoes, and a hint of hops. My fingers were tangled in his hair, holding his face to mine as his hands roamed down my back and pulled me tight against his body. Someone was moaning, and it could have been me, but it could have been him too. Hell, it could have been both of us, since it sounded loud enough to be in stereo. He pulled his face back slightly, and my eyes opened to see him studying me. 

“Wanted to do that for fucking weeks now.” I felt his fingers teasing the hem of my shirt, the heat of his hands feeling like they were already under the fabric. “Tastes better when it’s not-”

“A means to an end?” I breathed, a slight tilt of his head told me I’d nailed it. “What’s this?”

“Fucking need,” he answered, taking my mouth with his again. He lifted me into his arms, and I felt him walking away from the kitchen. 

I’d left the light on in my bedroom, one of the bedside lamps anyway, and so I knew vaguely that he’d taken me there when we arrived in the dimness. He set me on my feet, and our mouths parted, giving me time to confirm my suspicions. “That dress you had on,” his fingers were sliding under my shirt now, and I was unbuttoning his shirt. “One day soon, I wanna touch you in it.” A twist of lust hit me hard and fast. He pulled my shirt over my head and exhaled when he saw the lace bra I’d been forced to wear after inviting him to join me for movie night. “Maybe this will fucking do.” The pads of his fingers teased the swell of my breast above the lace covering my nipples and my knees started to buckle. “Steady.” I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and he had to move his hands so it could drop to the floor. My fingers went to his pants, foreplay could resume when he was naked. And maybe I’d be naked too, we’d see. “In a hurry, Veronica?” Shit, there it was again. His fingers slid into the waistband of my pajama bottoms and yanked them down so they fell to my ankles. Kicking them off as I unzipped the pants that I’d already unbuttoned, I copied him, letting his pants fall to his feet. 

I bit my lip, staring at a body that my imagination didn’t do justice at creating in my dreams. I touched his shoulders, letting my fingertips slide down his skin, thinking that he was soft and hard at the same time. And Billy let me play, let me explore, uninterrupted and undistracted. 

When my fingers touched the top of his underwear he sucked in a breath and I looked up into his eyes. “Tell me what you want, Billy.” And he did one better, he showed me. 

His mouth met mine, and his fingers were unsnapping my bra and he didn’t release me to pull it off. Then came my panties, then his final article of clothing joined the litter of clothes decorating my floor. Lifting me into his arms, my legs wrapped around him as naturally as anything, he walked forward and I was expecting my back to meet my bed, but instead it met the wall next to my closet. 

Foreplay wasn’t needed, we were both revved up past the point of wanting to wait, and he didn’t even need his hands to line himself up with my opening. His sliding into me forced our mouths to part, a groan released from him and a gasp from me. Dear God, how the holy fuck did he-

My eyes met his and my nails bit into his shoulders as he moved, taking the chance that we could handle it since I think we both had doubts. And if his penetration made me gasp, then his first thrust nearly made me scream. Fuck. He went slower than a wall fuck would make someone assume, but dear lord, it felt amazing. The only time our eyes left one another’s was when the urge to taste one another took over, but like magnets our eyes would lock again and again. 

After coaxing several leg shaking climaxes from me, he turned and my back finally met the cloud that created my mattress, and that’s when Billy Butcher went the opposite route from the wall. Hard, fast, and making me have a rush of fear that the bed would collapse from the way we were coming together, it felt like we were locked together for days. Roaring as I screamed through a final orgasm, Billy finally joined me and collapsed on top of me as the raging in my blood seemed to pound harder. 

His face was buried against my neck, panting but with a smile that I felt curling against my skin, I shook my head at what led to this moment. We hadn’t touched since that one distracting moment in my office, weeks of flirting and laughing and now? This. Whatever the fuck this was. 

“Should I go?” He was breathing in the scent of my skin, and his words tickled against me.   
“Only if you want to.” I whispered, and his smile grew. “I think we should probably pull down the blankets though,” his laugh forced me to join in. He’d taken me sideways on my bed, the pillows nowhere near us, but he managed to maneuver us until we were where we needed to be. As he tucked us in, I thought he’d take one side and I’d go to the other, but he surprised me again, pulling me into his body to spoon my back, sharing a pillow.

“Night, Veronica.” His voice was quiet, and I could hear the contentment lying in the tone. I turned off the lamp, ignoring the fact that the rest of the house was fully ablaze with lights we didn’t turn off, not wanting to leave the warmth of him. 

“Night, Billy.” I answered, feeling his arm tighten around my stomach and his mouth press against the base of my neck.


	11. Morning Comes...Regret?

The sun woke me up the next morning. I was alone in my bed, naked, and if I didn’t feel the perfect soreness that reminded me of the night before I would have assumed I had dreamt it. 

Rolling over, looking up at the ceiling, I tried very hard to not feel bereft that Billy hadn’t stayed until I woke up. What happened was fucking madness, and it wouldn’t be able to happen again. We both knew that, no doubt, and him especially since he was no doubt still mourning the loss of his wife. Shit. I rolled out of bed, forcing away the surge of delicious memory that caused my hips and thighs to be stiff and tender, and headed for my bathroom. A hot shower, and I’d be good as new. 

As I was pulling panties from my drawer, a scent hit me that didn’t make sense. Was that-

“You’re awake,” Billy offered, standing in my bedroom doorway holding a tray laden with breakfast. He was wearing just his boxers, and I realized with a glance at my floor that his clothes were still tangled with mine. “I wanted to surprise you with-” his eyes flicked to the tray and I felt my smile wanting to come out. “Hungry?”

“I could eat,” climbing back in the bed, forgetting that I was still completely bare until I heard him groan behind me, I looked over my shoulder. A twist of need hit me, and it had nothing to do with the food on the tray. “Are you joining me?” I asked, propping up the pillows on the headboard so we’d be comfortable. 

He set the tray over my lap and got in beside me. “Only if you want me to, Ronnie.” A shake of my head had me picking up my fork and cutting off a piece of the pancake he’d drizzled with syrup. Instead of biting it, I held it out for him. “‘Fraid I’d poison you?” I rolled my eyes and watched him chomp down on the bite with exaggerated viciousness, then he was moaning dramatically at the taste.

“You’re such a-” his lips met mine, the sweetness of the syrup and the underlying flavor of him hitting me like a freight train. I don’t know how I managed to keep hold of the fork, but when he pulled away, flicking gently against my lower lip I still had it in my hand. I licked my lips, still a hint of syrup left from his mouth, and our eyes met. “Not bad, Butcher.” He was smirking as I took my first bite, and had to agree that he wasn’t half bad at pancake making. 

We shared, bite for bite, and got distracted a time or two for the taste of something a little different. Like when a string of syrup trailed down his beard, and it seemed like a shame to waste, and I had to be sure it hadn’t dribbled further down. As I licked his neck, I was happy to see that he was enjoying my thoroughness. Or when I was clumsy and missed my mouth, a bite of pancake fell on my chest, and Billy got to it before I could grab it with my fingers. It was only fair that he used his mouth to make sure I wasn’t overly sticky, right? 

Breakfast was finished, the tray set on the floor, and then Billy made sure that I hadn’t been butterfingered enough to have dropped anything lower. Taking his time to check every single inch of my body for stray sugar or crumbs. It seemed only proper to do the same for him, and I copied his careful inspection that he’d done on my body on his. Watching as he studied my complete devotion to making certain he was in pristine and satisfied condition before I was finished. 

After a shower, together if you can believe it, and then a very slow redressing, Billy left. He looked like he was conflicted, and I was afraid to ask why. If he finally started to regret this, then I didn’t want to know yet, since I hadn’t. One final kiss, long and lingering, and then he was gone. 

Monday came too soon. Yes, I know the days of the week, but seriously, ONE fucking day to process what happened between Billy and me, and it wasn’t even a WHOLE day. 

I got ready and had to stop repeatedly to steady my pounding heartbeat, my pulse was ragged, and I swore that I’d end up taking some type of mood stabilizer if I didn’t calm my shit down. Slipping into my heels, checking the mirror a final time, I shook myself out of it. I was going to WORK. I would be professional and distant and a fucking calm presence in the building. That was my JOB. 

I pulled into the parking lot, grabbed my bag, and entered the building with an absent greeting to Anthony. Standing outside my office, when I made my way down the hallway, wasn’t Billy Butcher. Instead, standing there looking as comfortable to be there as I was at seeing them, was Kimiko and Frenchie. 

“Morning?” I was squinting, trying to understand the change, but with a flash my eyes closed. Distance. Billy was finally regretting it. And this was his answer. “I guess you guys are here to help me with the files?” 

A nod from Frenchie and a shrug from Kimiko was my answer. Great, this should be fun. 

Frenchie wasn’t as bad at the task as I thought he might be, and Kimiko was teachable, in her own way. We sat on the floor, in the same position that Billy and I had taken as our routine, but with the door shut. Kimiko was leaps and bounds past her fast triggered violence, but I’d rather Joseph not freak out more than necessary. 

We were scribbling away when my phone rang, not my office line, but my cell phone. Checking the screen, I sighed. “Hello, Mother,” I answered, standing up and moving toward the window so my conversation wouldn’t bother my worker bees. 

“Honestly, Veronica,” she started right in on how disappointing my performance had been during the charity event where I was sold like chattel. “I have to tell you, I feared that John would ask for a refund, you were so abrupt and rude.” Damn it, he hadn’t? “That would have been so embarrassing for our family, Veronica, you do understand that don’t you?” I rolled my eyes and let her roll on. Honor of the family, blah blah blah, a complete disappointment as a daughter, blah blah blah, luckily she and my father had managed to smooth his ruffled feathers, blah blah blah. “He’ll be calling you this afternoon.” Wait, what? “I expect you to answer, no excuses.” 

“I’m working, Mother,” I glared out the window at the alley it overlooked. “And while you and Father can’t seem to fathom it, my work is actually important. Not only to me,” I closed that potential loophole before she could attempt it. “I’ll answer his call if it comes in at a convenient time, for me.” I told her goodbye before she could start in again, reminding her once again that I was working. 

“You seem rather,” Frenchie offered as I sat back down to get back to work with a sigh. “Upset.” That was one word for it. “The weekend wasn’t pleasant?” 

Some parts were amazing, I thought, others not so much. “Any time I have to deal with my parents is trying, Frenchie,” offering this as I picked up the file I had been working on I went back to it. Hoping that the rest of my day wouldn’t slide further downhill. 

I gave Frenchie and Kimiko free reign for their lunch while I ordered in, telling them to have their pick call me so I could cover the cost. Taking the more comfortable visitor chair, I was still working on a few files when a knock came to the door that I assumed signified lunch had arrived. Finishing the few notes I’d been making, I finally answered, and glared up at the man himself. Billy fucking Butcher. Damn it.

“Ronnie,” he said, my body blocking him from entering my office. “Gonna move a bit so I can-”

“Nope,” I said with a tilt of my head. “Frenchie and Kimiko are my workers today and they’re at lunch, you’ve been replaced.” His eyes narrowed and I felt a tad victorious. Serves him right, I thought, shifting our routine to others without so much as a heads up to me. 

“Replaced? I’ve been replaced?” He stepped forward, pushing himself into my personal space. “I think you and I both know, Doc, that there’s no replacing me.” His eyes trapped mine and I wanted to- I don’t know what I wanted to do. Slap him? Kiss him? Both? “Let me in.” 

“Fine,” I bit out, stepping back and his eyes landed on my toes. 

I’d changed the polish after he’d left, and depending on where the light struck them, the colors changed. His gaze roamed from my newly painted nails up my body to back to my face. And then his hands were around my waist and he was shutting my door behind us as he pushed me further into my office. I opened my mouth to tell him that the barbarian tactic wasn’t going to work when he lifted me onto my desk and his mouth captured mine. The burn of his beard, the flick of his tongue, and I forgot why I was so pissed at him. At least for a moment. 

“I had a few things to take care of this morning,” he breathed when he took a pause to take a breath. “I thought having Frenchie and Kimiko help out would keep us on track with the files.” His fingers were sliding along my bare arms peeking out from my short sleeved blouse. Then they found the buttons along the front and started flicking them open as his mouth took a trip down my neck. “I think you got the wrong idea, Ronnie.” 

His mouth was tempting the skin he was baring slowly to his view, and I fought against the urge to close my eyes and fall into the feelings. Half the fun with Billy was watching. “I wouldn’t have,” my voice half moan half whisper, “if you’d fucking told me.” 

He nipped the curve of my breast and chuckled as I lurched into his touch. “Not used to answering to someone about my whereabouts, Veronica, I’ll have to-” and then his tongue flicked against my nipple through the lace of my bra and I gasped loud enough to fear Anthony heard it at his desk. “Fuck, too long,” and then his mouth met mine again and we almost got back to the swing of things, so to speak, but a knock came to my door and Anthony was saying he had my lunch. Fuck. Billy growled into my mouth, but when my stomach answered him he pulled away, eyes twinkling. “Hungry, Ronnie?” 

I was no doubt a fucking mess on the desk. Blouse hanging open, I had no doubt that his beard and mouth had left traces of how he’d been reminding me of his overnight at my house, and I knew my lipstick was gone since I could see hints of it on his lips. I wasn’t sure I could stand, I was so overcome with want, need, and fucking hunger. 

“I’ll grab it for you, but you might want to-” he gestured at the state of my clothing and I rolled my eyes. “Turn away from the door, he’ll never know.” I did, and was fixing my shirt when I looked up and saw the reflection of me in the full wall of windows. Shit, I closed my eyes, praying that Billy’s bulk would keep Anthony from seeing his boss completely undone.


	12. Grand Gestures are for Losers...But This?  This is Fucking Amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the relationship between Ronnie and Butcher is at the forefront of this, and I have to say if you came to read what I think is gonna happen with the actual storyline, you're in the wrong fucking place. 
> 
> When I write these stories, I don't focus on the action parts (the violent fighting ones), simply because that's clearly not my strong suit. Instead, I write more people oriented ones. So while I may pop some of the Homelander drama in here and there, don't be shocked if The Boys' missions are vague. Thought I might need to give everyone a head's up about that.
> 
> Also, when I wrote this, I was thinking about how I act in a relationship. I'm that person who hears a random complaint or yearning for the seemingly little things of my SO, and that's what I strive to give them. That's how I think Billy would be with Ronnie. She isn't Becca, nor would she want to be compared to her, so he treats her how he knows that she wants to be treated. 
> 
> I hate grand gestures. I'm easily embarrassed, wracked with anxiety on the best of days, so the thought of someone doing something huge to show they care is the opposite of what I'd like. Hence the title.

Billy kept me company while I had lunch, assuring me he’d had something before he came to the office, but he kept sneaking fries so I had some doubts about that. Finally shaking my head and cutting my burger in two, I handed him half. He was going to argue, I could see it in his eyes.

“Take it, Butcher,” I growled, and his smirk returned, grudgingly taking it from me. “And half the fries, you’ll help me keep my figure.” 

An eye roll was what I got for my efforts, but he softened it when he told me that my figure was perfect and always fucking would be. “We’ll eat and get back to the files,” although his eyes were roving over my body like he’d like to take the day off to study ME. 

“Frenchie and-” he shook his head. “They were just part time help?” 

“Told ya, I had shit to take care of this morning, always planned on getting back to work with you.” He was making quick work of his part of my lunch, and I realized I’d stopped eating altogether. 

Tucking back in, I considered asking what chores he had to take care of, but thought better of it. Even Billy had the right to his privacy, maybe especially him. Once lunch was finished, before we could settle on the floor, a knock came to the door. Damn it. Billy told me he’d get it and he was looking far too pleased for me to feel calm, but then, on the other side of the door stood Joseph of all people. He was smiling at Billy and I was starting to feel like I was in the fucking Twilight Zone.

“I managed to find two,” Joseph was telling Billy, and I looked down and smiled. That sneaky bastard. “Since you are helping Dr. Taylor with her work,” I listened for any sign that the words were said with innuendo in mind, but they seemed sincere. “I thought you might want one as well.”

And as Joseph rolled them in, Billy was looking at me with a smug smile, and I shook my head at how fucking thoughtful this one thing was, after all my subtle hints. Two regular, plush leather desk chairs, to replace my shitty ergonomic one. Thank God, make that thank William Butcher, since he was the one who asked the one person he knew could make it happen. 

“You are free to do whatever you want with that,” Billy pointed at the bane of my existence. The chair, pain on wheels, and Joseph smiled at it as though it was a Christmas present. Have at it, I thought, and peace be with you. 

The door shut behind him, after Billy thanked the normally jittery paper jockey, and I was studying Billy Butcher like I had never seen him before. “What?” He asked, smirking. “Couldn’t stand sitting on the fucking floor for one more day,” he held out a chair for me. “Take a seat, Ronnie, let’s get to work.”


	13. New Chairs, Distractions, and A Date...

The new chair that Billy managed to have Joseph find for me was like a fucking cloud compared to the thing that I’d been given on arrival at my new post. Why I hadn’t thought to request a new one was beyond me, but knowing that he paid attention to my bitching and moaning made me feel- I have no idea what it made me feel, only that I didn’t want to put it into words. Not yet. Not now.

Sitting side by side at my desk, matching chairs, I nearly laughed at the picture we would make if anyone walked in. Nearly because Billy’s hand found my leg as he read the file in front of him and I lost my place in my own. Shit. Swallowing down the rush of lust that hit me, I shook off the burning feeling, and forced myself to read the first line again. Name, got it, I wrote it down. Date of first dose of Compound V, done. Powers, known and expected progression- Wait.

“Billy?” His fingers were sliding up my pant leg, getting closer to his clear goal, but I was distracted by what I was reading. “Damn it, Billy,” I growled, as his finger tap danced on the zipper of my pants. 

“What?” He looked up, as though we had an audience to perform for, that would somehow notice that he was focused on the file in front of him, and NOT on how to get his fingers inside my pants. 

“I found her,” his hand stopped and I shook my head. Meeting his eyes, I saw his had widened. “Listen to this,” I gave him the known powers, telling him what the Vought scientists believed that those powers would progress toward. “Sounds like this is her,” I read further and let out a colorful string of curse words that would have made anyone other than Billy blush. 

“I’m guessing we don’t know where she is,” a sardonic tone, eyebrow raised as I shoved the file at him. “Fuck. Course they’d lose the cunt that could cause the most fucking damage.” 

“Damn it,” I slammed my fist down on my desk. This wasn’t as fucking helpful as I wanted it to be. “Fat lot of fucking good this does us-” I was irritated, and a little horny. Glancing to my side and seeing Billy studying me forced a correction to that observation. A LOT horny. Shit.

“Veronica,” I swallowed hard, he ONLY called me that when he was feeling- I felt his hand return to my leg, but this time he used the grip he had to turn my chair to face him. “I think YOU need a distraction.” And then his mouth met mine and I sighed into the flavor of Billy Butcher. He pulled away only far enough to tell me what he really liked about the new chairs. “I can sit on mine,” and with a yank from both of his hands on my waist, I was off of mine and straddling his lap easily. “And you fit perfectly on top of me.” His lips were sliding down my neck, nipping at the skin that was bare above my blouse. “Sit down, you can’t be comfortable like that.” I was poised above his lap, ample space between us. Using his hands to help me get more ‘comfortable’, his moan coursed through my body, while my gasp was so loud that I was almost ashamed. “Fuck, Ronnie,” and then his lips were on mine again, as his fingers moved higher to work on the buttons of my blouse again. 

My shirt was off of me without our kiss breaking, and between the lace of my bra, and the softness of his shirt, I was already on edge. A flick of his nimble fingers and the lace was gone. Who knew a fucking Hawiian shirt could feel so decadent against my sensitive nipples? As his tongue flicked against mine, his fingers kept busy, working on unfastening my pants, and helping me lift my hips and stand long enough for him to rid me of those and my panties. While I was standing, I noticed that he was still fully clothed and that wouldn’t do. Tearing his shirt from him and getting his help to undo his own pants, we couldn’t wait to let him shuck them totally, he was pulling me back onto his lap and then, like magnets searching for their mates, we were together again.

I was shocked, truly and completely amazed, that the chair didn’t squeak, squeal, or at one part of my riding Billy Butcher to shared completion, fall completely the fuck apart. I’d have to thank Joseph, it was a fleeting thought as Billy was forced to cover my mouth with his to keep the entire building from breaking down the door to make sure no one was attacking me. Jesus. This man, rocking into me from below as we both came down from a shattering shared climax, could make me scream without noticing that I was fucking doing it. 

I was shaking as he held me, letting me calm down, or so I thought, until my mind fully came back to the present and realized that he was shaking too. Just as undone by me as I was by him. Our eyes, constantly searching for one another’s as though we needed proof that we were both real, locked and as our breathing slowed, as the glistening film of sweat that we shared cooled, I wondered what he was thinking. Because if it was anything like what I was, we were truly and completely screwed. 

Like clockwork, my phone rang, not the desk, but the cellphone. Glancing at it, I saw it came from a local, but unknown number. 

“You wanna answer it?” Billy’s voice sounded raw, his fingers sliding down my back, his eyes meeting mine again when I shook my head. “Might be important.” 

“It’s not,” I answered, a flash of knowledge coming to me. “It’s just the highest bidder.” His hands went still on my back, and I felt his thighs tense at the reminder. 

“That’s right,” he forced his lips into a smirk, and I could tell that it was hard work. “Almost forgot that you’ve been bought and paid for, Doc.” Shit. 

Feeling like our moment had passed, the phone had gone to voicemail during it, I took a deep breath and stood up. Turning my back to him, I handed him his shirt as I started pulling my own clothing back on. I wasn’t sure why he was bothered by it, and I knew he was, he’d called me ‘Doc’ after all. He knew, hell he’d teased me about the fucking auction and insisted I go. 

I was buttoning my shirt when the desk phone rang, since Billy was fully dressed (the joys of being a man who hadn’t needed to completely strip) he answered it. 

“Doctor Taylor’s office,” he didn’t meet my eyes, and I knew something had switched, but fuck if I knew what it was. “Ah, yes, she is here, John was it?” Billy’s tone had changed, from shut off to- Oh fuck, I knew which John he must be talking to, and I wanted to kill my mother. “She’s in the middle of fixing her lipstick, got a bit mussed during lunch, well dessert.” I shook my head and started to move so I could take the handset, but Billy moved away, eyes finally meeting mine in challenge. “You know how women are, Johnny Boy, they get so hungry for what they really fucking want and the makeup is the first to suffer.” My mouth was open and he had the nerve to wink at me. “She mentioned that you had to buy a date with her, for charity of course.” His tone insinuated that the charity was John needing a date and I bit my lip. “That’s Ronnie, always giving to the less fortunate.” I looked longingly at my stapler and his grin grew. “Look at that, I think she’s got herself back to sorts, I’ll hand ya over to her now.” Fucker.

He cupped the handset so John couldn’t hear him and stared down into my eyes. “He gets ONE meal, but I get dessert, Ronnie, understood?” Gulping, I nodded, and he handed me the phone. Shit, fuck, shit.

“Hello?” I sounded breathless because I was, and I had an avidly watching audience. “Yes, Mother said you’d be calling.” Try as I might, I couldn’t drop my gaze from Billy or turn away. “Friday night? I leave work at-” Billy held up a hand that showed fingers numbering at least two hours after I would normally go home. I gave that time to John and Billy nodded in approval. “I’d rather meet you at the restaurant, if you don’t mind.” A smile from Billy told me I chose well, and after confirming a place and a time an hour after I ‘got home’, I hung up. “What the-” Billy’s lips claimed mine, kissing the questions and curiosity out of me. 

“Two hours to make sure that John knows precisely how charitable that date he bought really is,” my stomach clenched at the thought of how Billy planned on doing that. “I’ll drive you to the restaurant, and then, when you’re finished I’ll meet you outside.” Shit. “I don’t like sharing, Doc.” 

I couldn’t argue with him, even though I had about fourteen lines of ‘just you wait a minute, bucko’ going in my head. Not when he was cupping my chin more gently than his words would suggest. I couldn’t argue with him when his eyes were locked on mine or when his lips brushed against mine in more sweetness than any human being would think William Butcher capable of. And knowing that I couldn’t fight back, not in this, scared me to my fucking core.


	14. Assignments and Assignations

Pins and needles. I felt like the rest of the week was the most nerve wracking week of my life. Between telling Mallory that we technically found the headburster extraordinar, BUT that Vought had lost her whereabouts, so we knew she existed just not where she existed. Add to that the rest of the team feeling like they weren’t being utilized with a healthy dose of Billy reminding me daily of that fire between us, while also reminding me that I had a ‘date’ on Friday night and I felt like I was going to implode without our mystery supe’s help.

Mallory, Billy, and I worked out a way for the team to feel useful and BE useful. Compiling the missing supe’s information with their last known locations, we sent them off to see if they’d trip over the one we were looking for, while also updating the files. MM manned the database from a laptop, while helping Frenchie and Kimiko locate and approach if the conditions were safe.

One nerve relaxed, Billy grew intent on turning up the heat between us, following me home almost every night, and filling in any downtime we could manage with trying to get us fucking caught by one of the underlings in our office. Honestly, he seemed to relish having a knock come to the door when I was at least partially undone, or one time actually in the midst of thrusting. He’d tuck himself away, grin at me as he reminded me of which parts of my work clothes were currently out of sorts, and almost fucking whistle as he got the door. 

And, contrary to what most of my body would try to tell you, I did NOT start wearing skirts to make it easier to fix myself or to make myself more accessible. There were plenty of times in the past that I’d switch up my look, and pull out the pencil skirts and thigh high stockings. It had NOTHING to do with hearing Billy’s breath leave him when he looked down and my toes were hidden, or the gasp that came when his fingers slid up my leg and met the elastic lace that held them up. Why would that matter? 

By the time Friday arrived, I was a bundle of nerves, randy as hell, and about to crawl out of my own skin. We finished the final files in the last boxes, and I noticed that we did it right on time for me to leave to get ready for my ‘date’. 

“Let’s go get you ready for John, Veronica.” Billy stood first, holding my chair as I got to my feet, bare today since the skirt I chose would have shown the outline of my stockings. It’s also why I wasn’t wearing panties. Clean lines are a must, and I definitely didn’t do it in case Billy decided to try to distract me again. Which he didn’t, by the way. 

He walked me to my car, like he’d done since the first time he helped me with the files. He held my door. He told me he’d see me soon, and I almost thought that I was off the hook and he’d changed his mind about whatever diabolical fucking plan he had cooked up, but I saw him in my rear view mirror and knew that I had no such luck. So why did I feel a stirring of butterflies in my stomach and instead of feeling worried? I felt happy that he was behind me and a growing curiosity about what was coming.

He parked behind my SUV and followed me into the house. As soon as the door was shut behind us, he had me locked in his arms and his mouth was hot on mine. Tugging my shirt up and over my head, he tossed it behind him toward my living room and then my bra met the same fate. The skirt was gone in a beat. His hands met bare skin, and he stilled against me. I was still in my heels, and when I started to slip out of them, he pulled his mouth away from mine and shook his head. When he took in my lack of panties, I swore his fucking nostrils flared so hard that I thought he sucked all the oxygen from the room.

“Heels on, Veronica,” and then he scooped me into his arms and took me to my bedroom.

For an hour and a half, Billy Butcher showed me that the two of us hadn’t gotten close to how fucking hot we could get. Sweat glistened, breaths were labored, and I knew that my skin was covered in beard burn, some bite marks, and there were probably bruises from where he’d held me so tight that I thought we’d meld together. My hair was a mess. Makeup? I was terrified to even think about that. 

“Now,” he sighed, turning on his side so we were face to face. “Now we get you ready for your ‘date’, Ronnie.” 

I laughed. “If I can stand up in the shower, you mean.” His hand cupped my cheek and I found myself leaning into his touch. 

“Who said you were getting a shower?” His lips were curling into a smirk and my eyes widened. “Johnny Boy gets a date, and it will be one he’ll not soon forget.” He stood up, energetic and bouncy. “Let me grab you a little something-” And as I lay on my bed, wrapping my head around the fact that I reeked of sex, he popped off into my closet like he was one of the fucking Queer Eye guys. 

A surge of fear, real fear came when I considered what Billy Fucking Butcher would pick for me to wear when I went out with the winning bid. Shit.

He didn’t pick something too risky. It covered all my pertinent parts. He didn’t pick out a bra or panties, which made sense, at least where the bra was concerned. Strapless, form-fitting, with a built in support system the bra was unnecessary. The lack of panties might be concerning though, since the dress had a slit from knee to, well let’s just say I’d be using every ounce of the training my mother gave me on sitting like a lady. 

I fixed my hair, even after he tried to convince me that it was a sexy mess. Sure, I thought, it looked like he’d pulled it while he pounded into me, which I can neither confirm nor deny that he did. Makeup was straightened and made evening appropriate, and just as I was considering what heels to wear, he held them up by the straps. Shit. 

My toenails were still painted in the shifting colors polish, and since the dress he chose was dark blue they worked. Coupled with the strappy heels he’d chosen, I had to admit, I looked amazing. For a date with someone else. Weird.

“No perfume,” he said, when I reached for the bottle. 

“Can I reapply my deodorant, oh wondrous one?” I asked, making his smirk grow to a full blown grin. A nod was my answer, and I dramatically put more on. “I swear I can still-”

He came up behind me, staring at the vision of the two of us in my mirror. “Smell me? Smell US?” He asked, hands sliding up my bare arms, causing goosebumps to erupt in their wake. “That’s the point, Veronica.” He dipped his head, letting his nose brush along my bare shoulder and up my neck, inhaling lightly. “I want the lucky sod who gets to have dinner with you tonight to know, without either of us saying a fucking word, that you aren’t for sale. That you aren’t up for grabs. That.” a light kiss on my pulse, feeling it quicken. “I.” a tiny flick of his tongue, tasting my still sweat salty skin. “Don’t.” teeth grazing lightly as he moved back down along the curve where my neck met my shoulder. “Share.” finishing with a bite hard enough to cause the skin to turn pink from the pressure. 

I felt like I was running a marathon that I didn’t sign up for, practice for, or realize I was in the middle of until I was surrounded by other runners. Practically panting, thinking that I might not be able to stay upright, I felt thankful that he’d wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me in place. 

“Look at you, Ronnie,” his voice quiet, our eyes meeting in the mirror. “What fucking man wouldn’t want you?” I shut my eyes and he turned me so I was facing him. “Open your eyes.” Powerless to NOT look at him, I complied. I saw his Adam’s apple bob from him swallowing and felt a tiny shred of happiness that he looked as shocked by this entire thing between us as I was. Then he kissed me lightly so my lipstick didn't smudge, and pulled away. “Let’s get you to dinner.” And after I grabbed my clutch to toss my necessities in, he took my hand and walked me to his car. I could almost swear I heard him mutter that he couldn’t fucking wait for dessert.


	15. Dinner, Dessert, and Unwelcome Guests

The restaurant was upscale, because that’s where someone like John Alan Erickson CGMA would want to experience a date that was the product of an auction. By the way, CGMA stands for Chartered Global Management Accountant, which is as dull as it sounds. Not that I would tell poor John that, since he didn’t let me get a word in edgewise, nor did he seem to care that I smelled like Billy. I had a feeling that this entire fucking ordeal was simply because he ran out of people who he could trap and monologue to on a daily basis. I doubted, at the end of the evening, he wouldn’t be able to recall what I was wearing, what I looked like in general, or if I even spoke at all. I could have taken a nap, but I had a feeling that he’d notice his audience wasn’t paying attention, or pretending to since I occasionally nodded.

I powered through, getting the SMALLEST and simplest meal I could find. Turning down appetizers, salads, soups, and every other addition that would force the date to drag on. I knew that if I begged off with a headache, my mother would find some fucking loophole to make me do the entire fucking thing over from scratch. While the thought of Billy Butcher preparing me for another night out with this dull as dishwasher substitute could be considered well worth the fucking effort, I had to think getting it fucking over with would make things more relaxed between us. Right? He couldn’t hold on to this ONE fucking evening that HE fucking pushed me into with his lack of willingness to fucking shoot me so I could miss the auction forever, right?

If the way my ‘date’ was staring at me as I attacked my food with a gusto that would make an ARMY grunt proud, I was powering through with gusto. Meh, did I care? This wasn’t a love match. I wasn’t planning on keeping him or doing it again. If he called my parents up before he unleashed the knowledge on the club crowd and told them that their daughter behaved like a starving letch, then perhaps I would never have to fucking go on the auction block again either. I’m calling that a win-win.

Once my plate was completely cleared, like the good girl I was, I looked up and saw that he was only about half through his own fucking meal. Shit. Luckily, he couldn’t lecture AND eat, so we fell into ‘small talk’. Which for those in my family’s circle means we played a ‘rousing’ game of ‘who do you know that I know?’ By the way, this is a stupid game, since the country club set is more incestuous in their social lives than most small towns. We knew the same damn people, and we both knew that we knew them. Again, John appeared to love the sound of his own voice, even if he was slothlike in eating his fucking meal and kept tossing out names like a really fucked up version of BINGO.

“Do you know William Butcher?” I asked, feeling like I had to take my mind off of the monotony before I started drooling. His eyes squinted, I could see and smell his mental gears working overtime to find and place the name. “I work with him, and he gained a bit of infamy not long ago.”

John shook his head, chewing carefully on his tiny bite of whatever he was grazing on. “I can’t say I do.” Of course not, I thought, since the dirty world at large only mattered if it was a monetary issue. 

“He was a suspected terrorist. Domestic, of course,” I offered, taking a measured sip from my water glass. John looked aghast. “He was cleared, after Stormfront was outed as the supe that killed all those innocent people.” 

“Why would I know this person?” He looked like I’d insulted him and that nailed this date in the bud. “Honestly, it isn’t like he’s a member of-”

“The club,” I offered with a sigh. “Yeah, I know.” Picking up my clutch, I opened it and tossed a twenty dollar bill on the table. “My share,” he started to speak, but I cut him off. “Date’s over, clearly.” And without another word, I turned and walked toward the door, pulling my phone out to tell Billy I was finished.

He was waiting as the host held open the door for me, a valet holding open the passenger door. “Thank you,” I offered to the kid, and slipped in carefully so no one got an eyeful of me. The door clicked shut behind me and I turned to see Billy smirking. “What?” 

“That must have been a record,” I rolled my eyes, but stayed facing him. “Seat belt, Ronnie.” 

“But, Billy,” I offered, shifting a bit so I was leaning over as he pulled onto the street. “I thought I got dessert after?” My hand dropped to his pants and I had to bite back a laugh when I felt a slight lurch in the car’s trajectory. “Careful, Mr. Butcher,” my voice quiet as my fingers worked to unfasten his pants. “While the French use the term ‘la petite mort’ to describe what I’m about to give you, I’d rather not make it permanent.” And then, pulling him free, I lowered my head to his lap and worked on getting my treat.

By some miracle, or the mere fact that William Butcher was a man who could become uber focused on a goal, we didn’t die on the way back to my house. I was surprised that he hadn’t detoured to his place or a hotel, but I managed to keep busy during the ride. 

Did you know that Billy has tells when he’s about to go off like a firework? Man doesn’t have a single subtle bone in his entire body, especially when someone is working him to a frenzy and then, just as he’s about to crest, backing off so they can work on the climb again and again. He was practically crawling out of his own clothing by the time the car finally stopped in my driveway. 

Smiling around my newest favorite snack, I decided to reward him for his good behavior, since I’d been in the car at least. Doing all the tricks I’d noted drove him to distraction on the drive home, I finally, when feeling his body tense up, didn’t stop. His fingers slid through my hair, and I was given my own prize. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, as I made sure not to spill a drop. “That was,” he sounded hoarse and he hadn’t even spoken the entire time. “Veronica.” I looked up at him as I put his pants to rights. “If a date with a wanker like John causes this-” I laughed and moved to get out of the car, but his hand on my wrist stopped me. “Am I coming inside?” Why was he always so sure I wasn’t willing? Nodding to affirm that was the point, I thought, he released me so I could get out as he joined me. 

I tossed him my house keys and he unlocked the door. We’d barely gotten inside when I realized a light we hadn’t left on was lit. The way he stopped, pulling me behind his body, told me he noted it too. When the voice called out, we both relaxed, marginally. Why here? Why now? 

Walking into the living room, I sighed. Shit.


	16. What's the BEST Way to Get Rid of Pests?

Before everyone automatically assumes that Homelander had come to visit, or that the unknown brain buster had decided to make a house call, let me assure you we were NOT that lucky. Oh, no, not even close. Because, as we rounded the corner, we came face to face with something much, much worse.

“Good evening, Mom.” I sighed, tossing my clutch onto the end table and thinking that I was NOT in the mood for the lecture that was coming and wondering for the first time WHY I had the idiotic fucking idea to give my parents a spare key to my fucking house. “Dad.” My father had been shadowed in the chair tucked away in a dark corner. 

My mother, the wonderful society woman that she was, sniffed at me as she raked over my entire ensemble top to bottom and back up again. Fuck. Her eyes landed on Billy, still close at hand and I felt the urge to scream as I could see her dismiss him just as fast as she would a driver. How the fuck did we miss their car, I wondered? 

“We parked in the garage,” damn it, the woman could read me like a fucking book. “I thought it best, in case you chose to leave instead of facing us.”

Another sigh and I sat carefully down on the sofa and pulled Billy’s hand so he’d join me. If I couldn’t escape, then his ass was stuck here too. “Face you?” I asked, smiling slightly as I felt Billy’s fingers link with mine. “Why are you making it sound like you’re here for an intervention?” 

“Because, young lady,” fuck, Dad’s tagged in. “Your actions tonight, and at the club, are completely out of line with how we raised you.” Wait, what?!

“My actions tonight?” I raised an eyebrow. “For fuck’s sake,” my mother hissed in a breath at the curse word, but I carried on. “Did that utter pansy actually call you and tattle on me?” Oh my God. “And what the hell are you talking about with my actions at the club?” I shot a look at both of them. “I have a JOB. It takes precedence over some nonsensical bullshit auction. An auction, I should remind you both, that I DIDN’T want to attend. Take me off the roster for the ‘club’,” I snarled the word, and was gifted with another hiss of breath from mommy dearest. “Take me off the Christmas list for the elite bullshit you drag me to every single fucking year,” a gasp this time. “As for the woman you raised? I would imagine that normal parents would be PROUD of a woman who stands up for herself, who earns her own way, and who, when seated with a pompous asshole who won’t let her get a fucking word in pays her fair share and leaves.” 

My mother’s mouth opened, but this time it was Billy’s turn to speak. “I think it’s time for you to go.” My dad started to cut in, but one look from Billy Butcher and he stopped. “Now.” 

Grabbing her purse with an air of absolute disgust, a feeling of disgrace, and a look of disappointment tossed in for good measure, my mother rose to her feet and nodded to my father that it was clearly time to depart. Before she took another step, I asked for the key back. Her eyes shot to Billy again, but I insisted. Thin lipped, she pulled it out of her purse and tossed it on my coffee table. We heard the garage door open after the door connecting it to the house clicked shut and I sighed. Fuck. 

“Did I overstep?” I shook my head. “I just-” he sighed and pulled me onto his lap, his hand curling around my thigh to hold me tight. “Do they always-”

I snorted, and looked up at him. “You managed to get rid of them. Thank you.” I smiled and kissed him lightly. “Yeah, they’re always like that. But tonight? I think they really thought that John could end up-” He growled at the thought of what they might have thought John could have become in relation to me. “Delusional. Not a trait one would want in their parents.” 

“As long as it skips a generation,” I felt him shift under me and realized what he was inferring. Oh. “If you wanted kids, that is.” He sounded strangely unsure again, a tone I really hated to hear coming from him, since confident bordering on cocky Billy Butcher was my favorite.

“Kids?” I bit my lip as his eyes held mine in a heated look. “All I really want right now, Billy, is more dessert.” And with a squeal I was in his arms and he was stalking to my bedroom to make sure we both got more treats.

Morning dawned, bright and early, and I didn’t wake up alone. Billy was still out, on his back arms above his head, and I took a moment to study him. His face, in sleep, was oddly innocent looking. Soft and sweet, two words that most people would never use to describe him, but that worked on the image I was graced with in my bed. 

I was trying to decide if I wanted to leave him and grab the shower that I desperately needed after the exercise we had before my date and then after it, when he shifted, and his eyes fought to open. “Morning,” my voice was quiet, unsure of how dangerous he was upon first waking, since he’d beaten me to it the time before. I knew, from past experience, that men with a military background didn’t always react well to company upon first waking. 

“Hey, you,” his arms reached out for me, pulling me over his body. His hands moved to cup my face, pushing my tangled hair out of the way. His eyes, open and focused seemed to be drinking me in. He was pulling me down so our lips could meet, but I held back. “Veronica,” it sounded like a warning and a promise, but I shook my head.

“I smell.” Wrinkling my nose, I sat up. “And I can only imagine my breath, so NO kissing until-” I hopped out of my bed and out of his reach. “A shower and tooth brushing,” he caught me as I crossed the threshold into my bathroom, his bare body tight against mine. “You joining me?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” And we showered together again, and he seemed happier than one would assume when I tossed him a spare toothbrush after. 

What would one assume that Billy Butcher occupies himself with during the weekend? Well, I can tell you for a fact, that when he stayed over at my house, he was oddly domestic. He helped me make meals, we watched television, he picked out the next color for my toenails. He literally was completely calm and anyone who happened to visit would have thought we did this every day or weekend. It was just that natural. And weird, let’s be honest, it was a bit weird.

No, we didn’t screw every second of the day, even Billy Butcher has to recharge his batteries now and then. 

We talked about things that wouldn’t have come up during work. He told me about meeting his wife. He told me about his dog, who was staying with his aunt. We talked about my college years, and how the friends that I’d grown close to had all dispersed after school. We didn’t talk about work at all. Instead, like a reverse of a normal couple, we started to get to know one another. 

“No parmesan cheese?” He asked as we were enjoying take out from my favorite Italian place. “On anything?” He looked like he was shocked, and most people were by me at one point or another. 

I grinned, tucking into my ill named favorite dish since I always had modified to suit my tastes. “It smells like rotten feet, Billy.” Wrinkled nose, I took a bite of my chicken. “Mozzarella or provolone is much better.” 

He shook his head and took a bite of his own pasta. He hummed his approval and I smiled. “My-” his eyes met mine and he looked like he’d seen heaven. “This is phenomenal.” 

After dinner, I thought he’d beg off, want to go home and change clothes, or even have time to himself, but he pulled me into his arms and kissed me in the way I was learning was his version of stoking the fire until we were locked together with nothing between us but air.


	17. Domestic Bliss?  I Hate Mondays.

Domesticating Billy Butcher wasn’t something I’d aspired toward when I took the assignment given me with poise and grace. Ignore the discomfort I openly experienced when learning of my new role, please. Without my questioning my superior’s sanity, I clearly displayed ample poise and grace. At least that’s what I planned to keep telling myself. 

Back to the domestication of one William “Billy” Butcher. This wasn’t my goal, but neither was having sex with the man. That being said, there was something very toe curling about seeing him wearing nothing but his boxers, standing in my kitchen, arguing with the box that held at least part of the dinner he was preparing for us about how fucking idiotic it was for something so small to take so bloody long to cook. If you doubt me, I dare you to see it for yourself and prove to me your toes didn’t twitch even a little at the sight. 

“I could give you a hand,” I offered from where I’d been leaning against the doorway, watching in amused and slightly aroused silence. He shot me a look over his broad shoulder, eyebrow raised and I had to give myself a cool down talk. Jumping him in while he was trying to cook dinner wasn’t going to get either of us fed. Although, dessert was always pretty damn filling. I pushed off the door frame and was in his arms with the irritating box tossed behind me, our mouths meeting and his arms wrapping around me so he could pull me tight against him. 

“This my shirt, Ronnie?” I might have pilfered his clean shirt, buttoning it carelessly, but it managed to cover me almost to my knees regardless. Sighing as his mouth met the curve of my neck, I nodded. “Looks better on you, but I bet it’ll look fucking amazing on the floor.” And then he tugged it off of me and kept kissing down my body, wait, I wanted dessert first. I started to argue, but then his mouth confirmed that I’d ONLY been wearing his shirt and I couldn’t remember being hungry at all.

Dinner didn’t burn, of course it didn’t cook either, since I’d interrupted Billy BEFORE he turned the oven on and put anything in it. We ate Hot Pockets, which he was shocked I had in my freezer, what fucking neanderthal doesn’t keep Hot Pockets on hand? We sat at the table, but we were so close together that we could have been on the floor, his shirt was covering me again, his boxers in place, and we were savoring our little warm gooey meal. 

“You constantly surprise me,” he told me as we were putting the dirty plates in the dishwasher. I must have looked confused because he went on. “Buffets, naughty in the office,” I almost reminded him that he was the instigator of those office moments, but he kept going. “Hot Pockets, tough as fucking nails, but sweet as sugar, Veronica Taylor, you’re a fucking constant source of amazement.” 

Shutting the dishwasher door that stood between us, I closed the gap. “Hark who’s talking, William Butcher.” I traced up his arms, from wrist to shoulders, with my fingertips. “Who knew you could make pancakes, wash clothes, and attempt to make dinner?” He was smiling down at me. “And I have it under good authority,” from the report I wrote on the subject, I added in my head, “that you’re also fucking diabolical.” 

His mouth met mine, but unlike when I interrupted his dinner making, this kiss reminded me of the first kiss we shared. Slow, tempting, testing the waters. Like he wasn’t sure, as though he didn’t know how I’d receive his advances. Even as I went on tiptoes, letting his neck take a break from leaning down, and my fingers slid through his hair, Billy kept the slow pace. As though, if either of us pushed harder, moved faster, the bubble would burst and we would implode or disappear. 

We kissed for hours, or so it seemed, just enjoying the taste of one another’s mouths. The feeling of his tongue teasing mine, still so slow and sweet that I would have enjoyed it for days. 

We didn’t have days to enjoy ourselves. Monday came, as Mondays always would come, and I smiled into the warm chest of the man lying next to me when the alarm went off. I could get used to it. Having him with me, next to me, warm against me as we drifted off. And that scared the hell out of me. 

“Morning,” he muttered, lips touching my head. “Ugh, work.” My smile grew and I kissed his chest, glancing up to see him staring down at me. Growing bolder from the attention, I took a slow tour down his body, thinking that I could make his morning, and mine, infinitely more enjoyable with a couple minutes of focused attention.

Billy told me he’d meet me at the office, and I grinned because I knew that he needed a change of clothes, even if we’d laundered his. He kissed me as he helped me into my car, telling me that he’d kill to wear the shirt that smelled exactly like me, but that he’d get not a fucking thing done if he did. Except me, he offered with a smile, and then he drove away and I was shaking my head as I pulled out behind him. 

I was sitting in my office, door closed, clicking through work emails when the knock came. Shaking my head, reminding myself to mark the upgrade for Billy’s key fob to urgent, I stood barefooted to answer the door. It wasn’t Billy. Nor was it Joseph, Anthony, or any of the men who normally rapped on my door. 

Looking up at his smug face, I had to remind myself that he was invulnerable, or nearly so and hitting him or being rude could be construed as an act of aggression and he’d welcome an excuse. 

“Homelander,” I offered with a small tilt of my head. “To what do I owe the-” I couldn’t say pleasure so I left it dangling.

“I think you should invite me into your lovely office, Dr. Taylor,” his voice was quiet, so I could hear the excited muttering voices from down the hall, clearly he’d been noticed. “The conversation I want to have, well, it’s not one you’ll enjoy your underlings being privy to, I assure you.” 

Stepping back, hoping against hope that traffic would keep Billy at bay until I could diffuse whatever situation this was, I let him in cape and all.


	18. Isn't He Adorable In His Cape And Air Of SUPEriority?

Now one would assume, as I let the devil into my office, that I would be on edge. Terrified that he’d make a move, that he’d do to me what he’d done to Becca Butcher. I wasn’t. Not even a tiny drop. I was perturbed. I was irritated. I was worried that Billy would show up and all hell would break loose, but never once did I fear that the science experiment gone horribly awry would harm me. Why? You’ll see.

I took my chair, the same one that Billy had made sure I had, pushing his slightly away so I had more room if necessary. I gestured to one of the far less comfortable visitor chairs, and contemplated for a moment having Joseph return the chair of pain that he’d seemed so happy to take for his own. Tossing his cape gallantly behind him as I fought against rolling my eyes at the fucking drama of it all, he sat as though the ugly utilitarian chair was a throne and I felt bile rise in my throat. How could anyone stand him?

“Well?” I sat back, waiting. “I’m a busy woman, so have your say and get out.” 

One perfectly arched eyebrow raised, clearly not expecting me to be less than welcoming. Oh I do love when someone thinks they have the upper hand. “I’m sure you are VERY busy with Billy Butcher, Dr. Taylor.” Ah, he was going to go for blackmail, this should be interesting. “After all the ‘work’ you two get into in this very office, that chair really stands up to some hard exercise, doesn’t it?” So he’d been spying for awhile. Since he had super hearing and the ability to be an uber peeping Tom, I wasn’t all that shocked that he’d focus on this office. I stayed silent, passive, bored. “Surely, Dr. Taylor, you wouldn’t want your SUPERIORS to know that you’re dipping in the office pool?” 

I snorted. I couldn’t help it, honestly, the look on his face was so fucking sure and confident that I’d bend. Poor thing. “You think that my superiors who told me to ‘do what was necessary’ to keep Billy Butcher from waging a full scale war on you and your kind would give a flying rat’s ass HOW I keep him calm?” I was bullshitting, but he didn’t know that, I hoped. “Besides, Homelander, between you and me, if you show mine, I’ll show yours.” I’d managed, while he was tossing out his innuendos to pull up some video and a few files that I’d requested from higher up, knowing that there had to be SOMETHING to make sure this moron stayed in his lane, and boy was I right. Turning my laptop so he could see it, I smiled as his eyes took in the video. “Should I zoom in? I mean, you can’t REALLY get the full effect of your nursing if I keep it full room.” It was a video, that Stillwell had taken, of the illustrious hero in front of me suckling like a babe at her ample bosom. “Shall I open the file for you? You seem so SUPEd up about being a dad, I’d imagine you’d be just as happy to know how Teddy Stillwell was conceived, because I’m fairly certain you weren’t in the room, or at least not ALL of you.” I glanced down at his crotch and made a face. 

“How?” He hissed, and I could see him contemplating torching my laptop. “Where did you-”

“Now now,” I shook my head and stood up to walk toward the door. “Just know that I have it, and I’m more than willing to release it, and a lot of other INTERESTING videos that've come across my desk. How would your NUMBERS fair if a sex tape of you and the disgraced Nazi whore Stormfront hit the airwaves?” He was fuming and I was standing at the door. “Now, Homelander, I think we’re through here, don’t you?” He stood and I knew he was thinking if I was dead he could make it look like an accident, I mean I just trumped him pretty fucking hard. “If anything happens to me?” He was so close I could FEEL his breath fanning the top of my head. “Everything is dumped to the public, EVERYTHING. And trust me when I say, if I’m not here to make sure that Billy doesn’t come for you, you’re as good as dead.” He snorted, copying me when I wasn’t impressed by his threat. “Do you have any idea how much ‘research’ went into killing Translucent?” He was glaring down at me. “The FUN they had when trying to find a way to end him, well, I can only imagine how much enjoyment Billy would have finding a way to make you a gooey pile of blood and gore, can’t you?” And with that final shot, I opened my door and loudly told him how wonderful it had been to have a moment to speak together. I knew the office had ears, and eyes, and I played my part as well as any CIA officer would. I even managed to NOT slam the door behind him, hopefully trapping his fucking stupid cape in the door and making him stumble, but damn if it wasn’t tempting. 

By the time Billy arrived, most of the chatter about my morning visitor had died down. Most, not all, which is why he seemed to fill the damn room once he was granted entry. 

“Doc,” his nostrils were flared and I couldn’t imagine what he thought I should have fucking done. “That-” He stopped, trying to get himself under some form of control, but it seemed hard work.

“Billy,” I touched his hand and he didn’t flinch or pull away, so I counted it as a win. “Look at me.” He had his eyes focused on a wall, but he sighed and complied when I asked. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Now let’s sit and I’ll tell you all about the asshole’s visit and what I told him.” I took a breath. “It’s time you get read in on some things that I was sent.”

It didn’t take long, since Homelander’s visit was brief, but Billy watched the videos, all of them and then read carefully through the files. That took longer, but it gave me time to watch him come down from his knee jerk reaction of ‘let me go fucking kill that wanker’. 

“Wait,” his eyes met mine, “So not only was Stillwell giving Homelander his mummy fix, but the kid is-” I nodded. “‘Splains how the shitlet got so far away from the explosion without a hair out of place.” Another nod, since I’d had my suspicions when I heard about Teddy’s survival, I delved deep. Vought sucked at keeping track of supes, but not their sperm. “Knew about him and Stormfront, but the video,” he cringed and I mirrored it. “The plan is to keep this over his head?” 

“For now,” I sighed. “More shit keeps coming to light, and almost all of it comes back to him and shady as fuck stuff.” Sitting back, I smiled when Billy took my hand and linked our fingers. “I wish I had access to this-” I stopped. If I’d had it before Becca died, then his hand and fingers would be hers. Hell, I wasn’t sure they weren’t still hers. Fuck. “Anyway,” I pulled my hand free and moved the laptop back in front of me. “We’re finished the files, and the boys are off doing recon and-”

“Ronnie?” I bit my lip and waited, bringing up the next goal on the laptop. “Why did you just-” and then I heard him sigh, and could almost see the gears click into place. “Veronica.” 

“Homelander visiting gave me an idea for what we do next,” I said, changing the subject, needing to before my heart left my body and jumped out the window. “We need to make contact with the known and available-” and then he turned my face to his and brushed my lips with his own and I breathed in the scent of him. Calming slightly, but still unsure. “Interrupting me?” For once, I wasn’t opening my eyes to find his, I couldn’t, not yet. “We won’t get-” and then his mouth was hot on mine, forcing a noise that I only made when I was completely undone by him from my throat, which set off his own moan. 

He pulled away, only far enough so our eyes could meet if I opened mine and so we could breathe. “Open your eyes, Ronnie,” I swallowed hard, fighting against the pull of his voice and the urge to see his eyes locked on mine. “Please?” That did it, like ‘open sesame’ my eyes opened and there he was. “She’s not here,” I felt my chest lock up. “She wasn’t here for a long time before that, Ronnie, and I never fucking moved on. Not one fucking step.” I knew this, I wrote the report on him and even the shit I found that didn’t matter stayed with me. “What coulda been doesn’t matter, don’t you see?” Did I? Not really. “It hurts, I won’t lie to you, it does.” Another gulp from me, but I didn’t pull away, not when his eyes held me hostage. “And I’m not sure I’ll ever NOT love her.” Great, that’s fucking fabu- “Doesn’t mean I can’t love you too, right?” Wait, what?

I blinked. And then I blinked some more. Did he just? “You what me?” I asked, blinking a little more for good measure, wondering idly if maybe I HAD died at Homelander’s hands...eyes, whatever. 

“I love you, Veronica.” He was smirking, even if I didn’t check his lips. I fucking knew it from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “What?” 

I was still blinking. Shit. “You love me?” Wrap your head around that, Doc, I thought. “YOU love ME?” Maybe new emphasis on different words would help? Nope. I blinked some more.

“Think I broke you.” Now I knew the fucker was smirking. “Yes, Doctor Veronica Taylor CIA officer extraordinaire, I fucking love you.” 

That actually made more sense, the way he put it there. “Right.” I bit my lip as he started down at me. “What?” I asked, feeling far more playful now that I was fairly certain I wasn’t dead. 

“I just told you I love you,” his eyebrow shot up and I nearly laughed, almost. “And all you have to say is ‘right’?” 

“William Butcher, are you jockeying for me to reciprocate your declaration of love?” He gave a bit of a nod. “Jesus, you’re so fucking needy.” It was his turn to blink, and I had to admit, it was a fun experience, but I didn’t want to torture him. Not for long anyway. “I do love you,” I said it with an exasperated eye roll. “I didn’t know it was going to take Homelander blackmailing me for you to tell me though.” And that did it, he chuckled and I joined him, before kissing his lips gently. “I do, you know?” 

“I do now,” he offered wryly.


	19. What Comes Next?

Anyone who has been paying attention to the ballad of me and Billy Butcher should know by now that something as life altering as the two of us declaring our love wouldn’t actually put a fucking damper in our work. Once we were both satisfied that the other person cared, we got back to it, with him allowing me to finish sharing with him what I thought was the next logical step in Supe Affair management.

“You’re thinking that having each of these overpowered cunts come in to have a sit down is a good idea?” Billy was looking at me like he could think of many words to describe my plan, and none of them were ‘good’. 

Rolling my eyes, I knew my tone came out tart, but I couldn’t help it. “Yes, William, we ARE the Office of Supe Affairs and as such, one would assume that we’d ACTUALLY speak with supes at some point.” 

I swear I heard a growl building in his chest and it did the fucking opposite of what a normal person would feel hearing a man who looks like Billy practically vibrating with irritation. No, I didn’t feel fear or worry. When Billy’s voice went rough and deep it made me feel an entirely different emotion. It turned me on. Shit.

“Ronnie,” dear fucking hell, how is it possible that his voice could make me breathless? “These-” he stopped, and I watched how his nostrils were flared, his eyes almost crackling with irritation. “You’ve had minimal contact with supes, they’re fucking-”

I waited, letting him rant and vent his anger and annoyance. Knowing that he needed to get it off his chest. As he spoke, it started to dawn on me.

I’d managed to make Becca Butcher an abstract concept. She was only real in the context that I knew the facts of her life from the moment of her employment with Vought, to the violation she experienced at the hands of Homelander. I knew that she’d chosen to leave her life, and the man she loved behind, simply to keep her child safe from her rapist. Even if that child was the product of rape, she’d raised Ryan with love. Which made her death, after he was abducted by the very man who raped her, at her son’s hands (or laser eyes) all the more traumatic for everyone involved. But making her an abstract character, someone I didn’t know and couldn’t physically know, I’d forgotten that for Billy she was so much more than just the woman he loved.

Becca was his failure. He hated supes, not only for what Homelander had done by raping and impregnating her, but because of that pregnancy he lost years of a shared life with her. And then, to add insult to injury and failure to failure, she was killed at the hands (again, laser eyes) of her child, a child that she made Billy promise to keep safe. 

When Billy told me he loved me, I failed to understand that this distrust of supes, this feeling of impotence in keeping Becca safe would transfer to me. Regardless of my training, of my gun, of the strength that I knew he knew I possessed, Billy was afraid of losing me. Damn it.

“Billy?” I took his hand and felt a sliver of hope that he was listening when his fingers easily linked with mine. “Sit, please?” 

Sighing, he sat in the office chair that matched mine. I turned our chairs so we were facing one another and took his other hand in mine. “Veronica,” his voice was almost hoarse, and my heart clenched. “They can’t be trusted.” 

My head tilted as I studied him, our eyes always like magnets found one another. “Starlight?” I knew she’d helped him, his team and was still involved with Hughie. “Can she not be trusted?” He bit his lip, wanting to argue, but I went on. “Kimiko?” I knew, from reports and their time on the run that she had supe abilities. “She’s part of the team, is she not?” He wanted to say something to force his issue, but I kept going. “Ryan?” He flinched, his fingers tightening gently. “I know what happened, with him and-” I swallowed hard. “Becca.” I didn’t want to do it, to bring up his pain, but he had to see. “We are the office to deal with their affairs, Billy. We have to sit down and talk to them, one by one, the ones that we have access to and once the others give us their reports, the ones we find.” 

Another sigh, and I knew he was truly listening, even if he hated the idea. “Not alone.” He ground out. “You don’t meet with any of these cunts alone.” 

“I hadn’t planned on it, partner.” I leaned forward and was rewarded by him mirroring me. Our foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, I stared into his eyes. “With you by my side, Billy Butcher, I think I’ll manage to keep the entire shitstorm from stirring too hard, don’t you?” 

His chuckle told me the worst was over, but his kiss cemented it. 

Once we settled on a goal, it was simple to start to execute it. Every supe would be sent out a request for an appointment in the office. Home terf, I agreed, was important and easier to control. The meetings would be simple and calm, which I reiterated to Billy more times than I care to recount, touching base with each one to let them know that I was heading the office, that Billy and his team were part of my ‘staff’ and that as long as they did no harm, they’d face no shit. 

“Who first?” He asked, as we were eating dinner at my house. I was happy to see that he’d packed extra clothes when he went to his place that morning. 

I chewed while I considered. “Starlight?” I was curious, she seemed very sweet and sincere. “Do you think she’ll bring Hughie with her?” More curiosity from me, since I personally hadn’t met the man-child. 

He shrugged, refocusing on his meal. “No clue, why would he though?” 

Taking a drink I thought about why Hughie might come with his supe girlfriend. “Moral support?” I offered, then my lips curled into a smile. “Protection?”

Billy snorted. “Hughie protect Starlight?” His eyes met mine and I saw his lips smirk with understanding at my insinuating. “You’re HUMAN, Ronnie, purely human.” 

I shook my head and went back to eating. “Not sure about that, Billy, when I’m with you, I’m pretty fucking certain that my sex drive becomes fucking supe levels of high.” 

“We’ll have to test that out, Veronica,” and with a single sentence, it flared up hot and heavy and I knew that we’d both have our hands full with one another, until we finally fell asleep in exhaustion and satisfaction.


	20. Dessert, Work, Disaster?

Billy felt that he truly needed to test my theory that I had supe level of horniness for him. I was more than up for the challenge. Well, he was UP for it, but I was more than willing to prove my point. We were careful in putting our dishes in the dishwasher, in fact, if anyone saw the two of us, they’d assume that we were just getting ready for a quiet evening at home.

It was shattered once the dishwasher door closed, because unlike the last time we were in front of the dishwasher kissing, this time I was almost feral in my need for him. Nipping at his neck while my hands started practically tearing his clothing from his body, I smiled into his skin as I felt the breath leave him. Mouth following the removed clothes down his body as more of his skin was bared to me, I was on my knees pulling his pants down when his hands slid through my hair and my eyes flicked up to meet his hooded gaze. 

Biting my lip, I tugged off his boxers and smirked as he lifted one foot then the other so I could toss his pants and underwear off completely. My hands slid up the back of his legs, teasing now, slower than my urgency to get him fucking naked in the middle of my kitchen. Swallowing down the need to rush, replaced with the urge push him as close to the edge as I felt with all my clothing still in place taking over. I wanted to repeat our car ride from my tortuous auction date, with the freedom of movement that lacked during that experience. And I did. Pushing Billy to the very edge of the precipice, over and over, wanting to hear the man that I fell in love with beg for me to let him go, let him have what I was teasing him with, to hear him demand me to finish him, to release him from the sweet torment of my mouth, tongue, lips and hear him growling my name through clenched lips and jaw. Because if there was anything that I loved more than Billy Butcher, it was making him want me as much as I wanted him. 

“Veronica,” ah, there it was, that pleading growl. “Stop fucking teasing,” an order. Humming my agreement with him still firmly between my lips, I gave him what he seemed desperate for and I have to say I enjoyed it immensely. His fingers were tangled in my hair as I kissed his inner thigh with a breathless smile. Jesus, I wanted him so badly I could swear I was vibrating with it. 

“I have to say,” my words were murmured against his skin as I worked my way back up his body. “Dessert is my fucking favorite part of every meal with you, William Butcher.” 

And then his hands were holding my face still as he kissed the breath out of me completely. I loved that he could care less that I probably tasted like HIM, he wanted me as badly as I needed him and that was completely amazing to me. As was his devotion to making certain that I hadn’t exaggerated my superhuman desire for him, and just as I’d made him demand my finish, he kept me moving toward the cliff’s edge, and then moved away, maddeningly and torturously over and over, until I was shaking and begging him. Until, finally, both of us were on the brink of insanity and together we rushed over, screaming and crying out one another’s names.

Taking a long hot bath together, my back against his chest as we relaxed, I had my head tucked under his chin and felt the vibration of his chuckle. I tilted my head back to look up at him and his smile had me biting my lip. 

“I think I’ve learned my lesson, Ronnie,” his lips brushed my forehead while his fingers were sliding down my arms, teasing and raising gooseflesh as they moved to take my hands in his own. I was curious what lesson he’d been taught, but as he would do until the last moment we had together, he seemed to know what I wanted before I said a single word. “Doubting you isn’t smart.” My lips quirked, fighting a smile. “Can’t say I regret the challenge this time,” and with that I lost the fight, my smile blooming fully at the reminder of just how carefully we’d worked over that challenge.

Our fingers linked, our skin touching, I wished we could tuck ourselves into this bubble forever. That wasn’t doable. And we both knew it. We had work to do, plenty of it, but for the night and each night we could steal for ourselves, we would take advantage of these moments. Every single one.

In my office, which I’d outfitted with a second desk, since Billy refused to take ownership of one for his very own, his badge now worked on my door we sat with matching desks, laptops, phones. And I nearly laughed at how we must look to anyone who might come in, but I couldn’t find it in me to give a shit. 

“First up is A-Train,” I said, updating our shared calendar, making note of each appointment confirmed. “Then Maeve,” I heard him huff out a breath and looked up.

“Don’t you mean ‘Queen’ Maeve?” He rolled his eyes, and I snorted.

“Unless I see the country she rules or the nobility of her line, her name is Maeve,” I muttered, adding to the calendar as we spoke. “Then Starlight,” I sighed. “Did they ever replace The Deep, Translucent, or Black Noir?” 

“Sure, they replaced the Invisible Cunt with the Nazi whore.” He offered, going through some of the files of the other known and whereabouts known supes. “Other than that? After A-Train got brought back, last I heard they were still doing the fucking idiotic talent searches.” 

“Then we’ll start bringing in the people in those files you’re flipping through.” I made a note, but his laughter made me look up. “What?”

“Did you know that Starlight had a boyfriend before Hughie?” My brow furrowed, what the fuck did that matter? “Supe named-” he snorted so hard I worried I’d need to call the janitor. “Soldier Boy, for fuck’s sake, they don’t try hard with these fucking names do they?” 

“The point of this riveting stroll through Starlight’s past romantic encounters is what precisely?” I asked, flipping through my own stack, adding names to the list that Joseph would be sending out requests for in person meetings. 

He was quiet, too quiet so I looked up to see him smirking and a look of mischievous glee in his eyes. “Don’t you think Hughie should see where she’s been so he can know how he stacks up?” 

I raised an eyebrow. “You seriously aren’t thinking we should have Starlight, Hughie, and her ex come in at the same fucking time?” His smirk grew into a fucking grin the Grinch would be envious of. “No.” I looked back at the list I was compiling. “Absolutely not.”

“Too late,” he offered, hitting a button on his own computer. “Just sent the request to Joseph to make sure this Soldier twat is brought in same day.” My eyes met his and I sighed. “Bound to be entertaining, Doc.” 

Rolling my eyes, intent on ignoring the absolute fucking happiness he was getting out of making Hughie’s life a little more dramatic than it needed to be, but I heard him snort again and looked up worried about what he would possibly come up with next. 

“Your mum found out my contact information, Ronnie.” What?! “Just got a fucking message from her on the phone. ‘Could you tell my daughter that we don’t appreciate being ignored.’ Not a question, she’s demanding, isn’t she?” His eyes locked on my wide ones. “Does that count as me telling you?”

I shook my head. The nerve of the woman. Of course I was ignoring her, she and my father had tried to do a fucking intervention on me for my BEHAVIOR. Shit. “It counts, but it doesn’t change anything.” I sighed and tried to go back to my stack of papers. I could hear him tapping on the phone, but I didn’t expect to hear him fucking speak.

“Lo, this is Billy.” I looked up to see his dimples creased. Fucker. “Yeah, told Ronnie what you told me to. Yeah, I know. Sure. Uh huh. Will do. Bye.” Fuck, why was he grinning so fucking widely?

“Did you just-”

“Agree to have dinner with your parents? Yes.” My eyes were going to pop the fuck out of my skull soon. “Told her we’d join her and your dad at the ‘club’,” he used air quotes and rolled his eyes. “Tomorrow night.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

My mouth dropped open and no sound came out, even though I wanted to ask if he was insane. Or if he really agreed without asking me. Or if he would shoot me NOW?

“It’s dinner, Ronnie, and I want them to see that you and me aren’t temporary.” I rolled my own eyes at that. “Get you off the fucking auction block it’ll be worth it, won’t it?”


	21. The First Meeting After...

A-Train was scheduled to meet with us on the same day as the dinner with my parents. Not only that, but we had a meeting with MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko that morning. All in all, nerve wracking. 

I can’t say that getting ready in the morning was all that worrisome. First of all, I woke up wrapped in Billy’s arms. That made the day better from the get go. Then the shared shower, the slow steady wake up routine that we’d made our new normal. I grabbed a change of clothes for dinner, shaking my head when Billy tried to talk me into wearing the same dress from the auction with an exaggerated eye roll he reminded me that he wanted to touch me in that damn dress.

“And you will,” I offered, grabbing a pair of heels to hook over the hanger of my more casual outfit. “Just not during a forced meal with my parents inside the stuffiest fucking place you’ll ever have the trauma of sharing a meal within.” 

“Veronica,” damn him and that voice of his. “You love me, so you’ll wear it to make this evening more bearable, isn’t that right, love?” I snorted.

“We’re going to this meal because of you, Mr. Butcher,” I grinned up at him as he pulled on his coat, over his ever present Hawaiian shirt. “I think a healthy dose of payback for your impulsive and impish decision in agreeing to this little endeavor is appropriate.” Handing him the hanger holding my dinner outfit, I pulled on my own suit jacket. “Think of this as your punishment.” 

It was his turn to snort. “Turnabout, Ronnie,” I grabbed my keys and tossed him the extra house key that I’d insisted my mother leave behind the last time we were in the same room. “What’s this?” He held it up, dangling from one finger, but grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Your key?” I shrugged and took the hanger from him. “Come on, we’re going to be late and the others are going to make me do the walk of shame.”

“Shame?” His eyebrow arched as he locked up behind us with his new key. “Come now, Doc, being with me ain’t shameful.”

I was laughing at him as he held open the passenger’s door to his car. “You know precisely what I mean, Billy.” I was buckling in when he joined me in the car, carefully hanging my spare clothes in the window behind his seat. “They don’t know, they might suspect, but they don’t KNOW.” 

“‘Bout time the cat’s out of the bag then,” he was grinning, and I felt my pulse kick up a notch. Dear God, how did he manage that with a simple smile? “‘Sides, Mallory is gonna be there too, might as well get everyone on the same page, right?” 

Shit, Mallory. Technically NOT my superior, but still over me in all the ways that mattered. “Yeah, same page,” I agreed, thinking that the worse that could happen would be losing my job. I’d still have my other credentials to fall back on, I tried to convince myself that it would be survivable, regardless of the outcome. And then I remembered the planned dinner date with my parents. Fuck the look on my mom’s face if I lost my position at the CIA. Damn it. 

We beat the team and Mallory to the office. As soon as we were inside the room, with the door shut behind us, Billy pressed me into the back of it and kissed me until I was panting. If I could have crawled up his body, I think I would have, but just as soon as I was trying to pull his head back down to mine, there was a knock on the door that I could feel against my back. Shit. His eyes were dark, his lips were wearing more of my lipstick than I must have been, and his hair was even spikier than usual from my fingers pulling on it. 

“Better answer the door,” his voice was husky, and I was tempted to ignore the world, until another knock came, along with a heavily accented voice asking for entrance. Shit. 

“Fix your mouth,” swallowing hard, I smiled as he used the pad of his thumb to fix mine first. Watching as he tried, without success to get the dark lipstick off his mouth, I reached up and he bent down so I could help. “There,” he leaned down further and kissed me again, “they’re gonna break the door down if we don’t open it soon.” I was smiling against his lips, loving that he found it as hard to break apart as I did. 

Another knock, then MM’s voice was calling out. Damn it. “Hang on to your tits,” Billy offered, hand on the knob as I moved out of the way. He yanked the door open and glared at three members of his team. “What’s the fucking hurry?” 

MM just stared at him and I had to look away to keep from laughing. Billy’s hair, his mouth, hell, even his fucking coat was out of sorts. Who knew kissing could do all that? Frenchie’s smirk grew as he too took in their fearless leader and Kimiko didn’t hold back her quiet giggle. Fuck a duck. 

“Did we interrupt something?” Frenchie’s eyebrow quirked and that did it, I huffed out a laugh of my own. “We could always take a tour of the building and come back. You would have to be quick, but we could-”

“Shut it,” Billy barked, and then he was beside me. “Get it all out of your system, for fuck’s sake, we’re human.” His hand took mine and I watched MM’s eyes almost glow from how right he’d been. Damn it. “Well? Anyone?”

“What’d I miss?” A new head popped in the doorway and I smiled. Hughie Campbell, as he lives and breathes. “Are you holding-”

I could almost FEEL Billy’s eyes roll. “Yeah, I am, is that a problem?” It came out gruff and annoyed, but I knew that for Billy, Hughie was almost like a surrogate little brother. “The fuck are you doin’ here? Thought you’d wait and come with your-”

“I wanted to see everything on my own first,” Hughie, who had walked in the office through the propped open doorway. “Do a little recon-”

The term, sounding off and awkward out of the lanky young man’s mouth set off the others. And I smiled as I watched the three older men, and even the young silent woman riff on Hughie. Pulling my hand from Billy’s I moved to sit in my chair, thinking that they all needed this reunion and since Mallory hadn’t arrived yet, they had the time to spare.

I watched how Billy and his group interacted. The teasing, but also the seriousness that they took their roles in this new goal. Mallory came soon after I’d sat down and took time to watch the group, helping herself to Billy’s chair, and waiting for the updates that we had, along with the reports that Frenchie and MM could give us about the MIA Supes.

I greeted the older woman and gave control of the room over to her, after she shut the door behind her. Mallory gave us a non-update about Alistair’s death, that the church was reporting simply that he had gone dark and his whereabouts were unknown. 

“It would appear that they’ll eventually say he was killed in a unforeseen accident, and then name a new head for their organization.” I started to ask if we had any idea who was in place to take over, but she shook her head and told us they were keeping that information locked down. “It’s a miracle that I even found out about his murder,” she sighed. “That ‘church’ is far harder to crack than Vought.” 

Which brought us to the updates from our crew that were basically going state by state to double check the last known whereabouts. Frenchie, Kimiko, and MM had made some progress, finding out that some of the supes were confirmed dead, and finding new leads for others. 

Hughie mostly stayed quiet, but he looked surprised to learn that Vought had LOST supes. “Wait, there are more out there that haven’t been named?”

“Not named, not tagged.” Billy confirmed from where he’d perched on my desk, close enough to tempt me to touch him. “And don’t get Ronnie started on the dead babies.” 

I was focused on Hughie’s face, turning slightly green, so I missed how the others seemed to shift slightly when Billy called me Ronnie. 

“Ronnie?” It was Mallory, and it wasn’t directed at me, but I still turned to see her studying Billy. “Dr. Taylor, I presume?” I glanced at Billy to see him biting his lip to keep his smirk at bay. “I didn’t realize we were at the nickname stage,” her voice was teasing, or seemed to be. She nodded and moved on, releasing the two of us from her scrutiny. 

Hughie’s eyes had widened and I shook my head. Even as the meeting continued, with Billy taking over for me with our plan to have known supes to come for a sit down in our office, another term that had the poor boy looking shocked. “Our” office, and with a look at Mallory’s face, I realized she was smirking herself. Dear God, these people were going to kill me.

“Wait,” Hughie held up a hand, his gaze going back and forth between me and Billy. If seeing Billy holding my hands confused him when he first arrived, he was truly stumped by this new development. “Are you two-” his fingers followed where his eyes started. “I mean, are the two of you-”

“Together?” Frenchie offered, smiling widely. “Oui, they have been together for sometime now.” He offered this as lightly as someone else might offer that it was raining outside during a downpour. 

“What about-” Hughie stopped, seeming to realize that asking about Becca in front of me to Billy might not be worth it. “I mean, you work together.” He offered lamely.

“Yeah, and you’re fucking a supe that could crush you with her pinky finger,” Billy rolled his eyes. “Don’t matter whose with who, it matters that we have a goal.” 

“That’s correct,” I finally spoke, hoping to get back to the point of the entire fucking situation. “First we sit down with each of the still functioning seven, then we move on to the other supes we know of, then,” I smiled at MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko, “with some luck we find the lost and work through those.”

“Yeah,” Billy agreed, reaching out to touch my face, forcing my smile to grow. “And with a little luck, maybe we’ll find the cunt that can pop heads from a distance.” 

The meeting broke up soon after that, with Mallory hanging back as Billy and his team walked out together, finalizing more plans to keep up the search for the lost supes. Hughie shot me one last confused look, before joining a team he still seemed awkward around.

“I told you that you were perfectly suited for this position,” I’d forgotten she was beside me in Billy’s chair so I had to work hard not to jump at the sound of her voice. Looking over, I saw her smirk had grown into an indulgent smile. “I didn’t quite expect it to go in this direction, but the two of you seem well suited.”

“It took me by surprise,” I admitted, but thinking about Billy and how easily he fit into my life my own smile returned. “I can’t say I’m not happy about it though.” 

“Good,” she offered, standing up and getting ready to take her leave. “I don’t normally condone fraternization between coworkers, but Billy Butcher defies most cases.” She smiled down at me. “You’re both good for one another, Dr. Tay- Ronnie,” she corrected herself, using one of Billy’s names for me. “And to be honest, I envy you that.” 

“Thank you,” I returned, standing to see her out. “For being so-” she held up a hand to stop me.

“There’s nothing to understand,” she reached for the doorknob, “love isn’t logical, Ronnie, and being in love with a man like Billy, well that truly defies logic.” With that, she parted, and left me with a grin and shaking my head.


	22. A Speedster, A Dress, A Cop, and A Promise...

Before Billy and I could rush off for a rousing dinner with my parents at the club, we had our first sit down with a supe. I wasn’t counting my lone meeting with Highlander, and I promise you that I wasn’t about to remind Billy it had happened at all before sitting down with A-Train. Let’s not get his boxers in a twist and make the simple check in turn into an attempt to figure out if sticking plastique up the speedster’s ass and hitting the button would work as well as it had on Translucent, shall we? 

When Billy had come back into the office after sending the Boys off to their next goal, he’d propped open the door again. No fear of anyone seeing our heads together, the casual touching, no hiding necessary now that the important people knew about us. And it also showed A-Train, when he arrived with minutes to spare, that we were in control and had nothing to hide, not even from the supes. 

“Hello,” I offered, smiling and standing. “Please, come in and have a seat.” I gestured to one of the chairs in front of our desks, and waited until the young man took the offer. Sitting carefully, as Billy once again held my chair in place, I took another beat while Billy sat. “I thought, since our office is newly formed, and we’re still working out the kinks of our purpose, we should meet with the remaining Seven first.” 

A-Train’s eyes flicked to Billy and I had to bite my lip to keep an errant giggle from escaping at the reminder that Billy and his team were the reason the Seven were- I had to do a mental count, four now? “Just to check in?” His eyes came back to my face, and I could tell he was trying to piece together the point of it. “So I just come in, say ‘sup’ and go?” 

Billy laughed, and I shook my head. “No,” he offered, voice low and quiet, but also clear as a bell. “You come in. We give you a rundown of your ‘powers’.” I had to pick up the file on my desk to keep from hitting him for the air quotes and snark, mostly because he was making me want to laugh. “You tell us if you’ve gotten some added extras, and we add ‘em to your file.” Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I could see how supremely comfortable and confident Billy looked seated beside me. “You hold out, we find out you held out, well it’ll take more than a little rehab from the Church of Twats and Cunts to fix the mess.” 

Taking a chance to look up from A-Train’s file, I was in time to see him gulp. “I helped you,” he muttered, but Billy said nothing. “I gave-”

“That’s the past,” I cut in, bringing his focus back to me. “Right now, after Vought’s irregularities have come to light, we have to make certain that you’re safe and healthy. You had a scare with your heart, didn’t you?” He nodded. “I have boxes and boxes of files, all are dead supes or attempts at MAKING supes that ended less than successfully. Babies, adults, and some that are somewhere in between. Learning if your powers are growing, if your body is under more strain, that could save lives. It could save YOUR life.” He was studying me, trying to find out if I was lying, but he didn’t have the same abilities that other supes had, so he had to choose whether to trust me or not on his own.

Billy sighed. Standing up, he strode over to one of the filing cabinets we’d filled with the supe files. Yanking open a drawer, he pulled out three files. Then he tossed them onto the desk in front of A-Train. “Go on, pick one and read it.” Nervous, but curious, he reached for the top file. If he’d gulped when Billy had first spoken to him, it was nothing to how sick he started looking as he read. “Each one, all three, and every single file in the cabinet I pulled those from are dead. Babies, children, adults, and even elderly. All because Vought wanted to play God, real or imaginary.” Billy sat back down. “Don’t have to tell you that I am NOT a fan of supes, but Doc here, she ain’t lying when she says she’s keeping track for your own good. If we know how this shit evolves, we can know if it levels out or if it amplifies and kills.” 

“Like my heart,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But I was adding to it myself-”

“Which I’ve made a note of,” I replied. “Even if you hadn’t, from what a few files mentioned, there’s still a chance that your heart would have felt strained anyway. Human bodies, even modified ones, aren’t meant to bear so much stress.” 

He listened, really listened, and while the tension between him and Billy didn’t lessen, he became more forthright with me. Telling me how he felt before and after taking more Compound V, how his body seemed to be bouncing back without it, and admitting he hadn’t known about the failed attempts. He also promised, taking one of my cards, to let me know if he noticed any new issues, good or bad. 

All in all, it was a productive meeting. One that I hoped would be easy to repeat with the others. A-Train left, Billy and I talked over what we learned, and he told me that good cop/bad cop worked well. I rolled my eyes. 

“What?” He asked, sounding far too innocent to take seriously. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Sure, I just don’t quite understand why we have to intimidate them before we attempt to just ask for information.” I shrugged, still my favorite gesture. Sighing, I leaned back in my chair. “It did work,” I admitted begrudgingly. “Even if I’d prefer to use the bad cop routine sparingly.” 

“What if I use it when we’re alone,” his voice had gone a hint deeper, and I could swear I felt it rush through my body. “Can I be the bad cop when we’re all alone in your-” a knock on the doorframe stopped him, but I knew I had to get my breathing under control before I could say a word. “What is it?” Billy asked, attention leaving me to take over where I clearly couldn’t. And I missed the entire exchange, thinking all manner of ways that Billy could play bad anything with me. 

The day went by, compiling a report of our first meeting with our first supe, making sure it was sent to EVERYONE who needed a copy. I wasn’t prepared when the day ended and it was time for the real torture to begin. 

Billy had brought in my change of clothes after lunch, and after he locked the door, he took a seat to watch me change. I had to roll my eyes at him, but at least one of us was enjoying the moment. He sat back, completely relaxed with a smile on his face that almost kicked my worry about the evening we were headed to to its knees, almost. 

The dress I’d chosen was conservative. Dark green, fitted, but covering me from neck to knee. The sleeves were short, there was a tie belt, but nothing from the knee up could be considered the least bit too sexy. I’d worn silk stockings, complete with vintage seam, and as I slipped into my heels, I realized that Billy had moved while I dressed. The heat of him was against my back, his hands sliding down my bare arms to take my hands in his, and his lips pressed against my neck. 

“You are so fucking beautiful, Veronica Taylor.” His breath was hot on my skin and I relaxed into his body. “And I plan on showing you off tonight, make all those wankers at the ‘club’ know precisely who the lucky sod is that won you over.” 

I turned so we were facing one another. “Are you prepared for my parents?” I wanted him to get that it didn’t matter to me, their approval one way or the other, but he had to understand that they would be pleasant, even with an audience. My family was well educated in how to cut someone to the quick without making a scene. He was grinning down at me which made me think he was taking the entire thing as a joke, but he surprised me by kissing me gently.

“I’m prepared to let them know just how badly they fucked up to force you to cut them out of your life, Ronnie.” His nose brushed against mine and he stole another kiss. “Let’s go, fashionably late is fine, but I want to get this show on the road. After all, we have something to do when we get home.” Shit, bad cop, I felt the tingle down to my toes at the promise of it. And that made leaving our office marginally easier. Just a bit.


	23. Dinner with the 'rents...What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

I was almost surprised by the ease that Billy moved through the country club dining room, almost but I recalled that he’d bribed one of the waiters before the auction so he’d clearly been inside the building before. The confidence radiating off of him, even as the maitre d’ gave him a look of disgust at his lack of coat and tie, well he had A coat, just not what the regular diners would have worn, Billy’s smile held. He shook his head when offered one of the ‘just in case’ options that the snooty host suggested.

“Veronica’s parents have seen me before, just like this, I’d rather not play pretend,” a curt nod, and the man sniffed at the rebuke. “If it makes your panties unbunch,” he leaned closer, forcing the other man to lean back, “we probably ain’t gonna be here for long. Prior engagement, and whatnot.” I was biting my lip, the maitre d’ looked like he was praying for the likelihood of us turning around and leaving NOW, but seeing Billy unmoving, he shut his eyes to ask for strength instead. And then he opened them, straightened his back further and stalked to the table my parents sat waiting for us at.

As we followed, I whispered that I was confused. When Billy looked down at me, our progress not pausing, I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes and said he said he wasn’t interested in playacting, which made him shrug. “I guess I’m confused because you promised me a fling with ‘bad cop’ and now you’re saying you don’t want to,” biting my pouting lip, I was rewarded with the flare of his nostrils and the heat of his hand on my lower back as he leaned closer to me.

“Not gonna put on a fucking act for the parents, Veronica, but when we get to the house?” His voice, just as quiet as mine was a rough growl. “All bets are off.” 

Shit. Maybe teasing him backfired. I expected him to be as undone by the idea of dessert as I was, and yet he looked as unruffled as ever, and I was twitching with need. Fuck.

My dad stood when we got to the table, my mom stayed seated as her lips thinned at the sight of Billy’s outfit. Too bad, I thought he was gorgeous in his flamboyant shirt, the longer than necessary coat, those damn jeans of his, and his half tied boots. If she really had issues with it, we could always leave. Now. And I’d make sure that he was out of the clearly offensive clothing as soon as my door shut behind us. I considered making that offer as Billy held my chair for me, and when his fingers brushed my bare neck and REALLY wanted to suggest it.

Once Dad and Billy sat, after the host walked away to leave us with our menus, silence reigned. Billy’s hand touched my knee that was bared as my skirt rode up during my sitting down, and I licked my lip to steady the urge to toss the menu and straddle him. Jesus. 

“Well?” I broke the silence. Mostly I wanted whatever was coming to come and go. And then Billy and I could go and cum, if you know what I mean? My mom was still eyeing Billy like she was trying to figure out what I could possibly see in him, and I came close to going into incredibly graphic detail of ALL of Billy’s most impressive attributes. Most of them didn’t even involve parts of his body. Dad was looking at his menu with carefully trained indifference. 

“The duck sounds delicious,” he offered, and I rolled my eyes. Yes, of course, Dad. Let’s focus on eating Daffy and NOT on the ridiculous reason Mom insisted on dinner. “I think I’ll have that with the-” he literally sat and went over his entire order. All four courses. Including dessert. Shit.

“While that’s riveting,” I deadpanned, I shot a look at my mom. “I’m fairly certain this lovely dinner wasn’t demanded just so we could hear how succulent the duck sounds.” If I thought my mom’s lips were thin when we arrived, I was almost impressed by just how fucking thin they could get. “Well?” Again, this time fully directed at the woman who theoretically pushed me out of her nether regions. 

“Honestly, Veronica.” I had to hold back another eye roll, and Billy was helping by applying not so subtle pressure to my knee. “First we’ll order dinner, and then-”

“I’d much rather get whatever issues that caused you to infiltrate Billy’s cell phone number to get out and over with, maybe then I’ll have an appetite for Donald.” Pretty sure I even managed a smile at the end. Maybe I looked pleasant, but I had doubts by the way my mom was clutching the stem of her glass. 

Pursing her lips, which made them marginally wider than they had been, my mom studied me. “I had thought that we spent ample time raising you properly, Veronica, but perhaps I was incorrect.” Sweet, disappointment and we’d only sat down moments ago. “The ‘issues’ that forced me to-” she looked like she was sucking a pickle with how distasteful she found having to find out Billy’s contact information. “Returning a phone call or a text message,” how did she manage to make texting sound like signing a pact with Satan? “Shouldn’t be beyond you.”

“Oh, it isn’t beyond me.” I felt oddly relaxed, of course that could have been due to Billy’s fingers sliding up and down my inner thigh. “In fact, today I returned several missed calls and I even managed to text three people. Hell,” Mom’s eyes narrowed as I leaned forward as though sharing a deep dark secret. “I EVEN managed to send a couple emails.” Take that, Mommy Dearest. 

“Veronica,” it was my dad, and a glance told me that he was in the running for the most narrow eyes in the family challenge. “You know very well what your mother is saying.” 

“I do,” I agreed. Taking a beat to lick my lip again, since Billy’s finger was getting dangerously close to the top of my stockings. “I have to wonder, however, if the two of you understand that not only am I an adult, but I also have complete autonomy. I am actually, by the grace of the country we live in, given full rights to decide who I answer and who I ignore. And that includes the two of you.” I shifted in my chair, letting my legs fall a tiny bit further apart. Even if he was being strangely silent, Billy was giving his own type of support and damned if it wasn’t helping.

The waiter came then, and Dad was firmly locked and loaded with his order. Mom gave hers begrudgingly, then Billy who I was shocked knew what he wanted since I thought he’d been diverted by diverting me. When it was my turn, I flipped open my menu and ordered my own meal being as clear and fast as my three dining companions. 

Once the waiter was out of earshot, my mom’s focus returned to me. “And this autonomy that you’re so proud of, you are aware that it comes with a high price.” Ah, my inheritance. I smirked, because once I’d learned this disaster of a face off was coming, I’d done what I was more than capable of doing. I researched. “Are you willing to pay such a heavy fee?” She looked so smug, so sure of her hold over me, that I almost felt sorry for her. 

Instead of answering her, I turned to Billy. Leaning closer to him, but letting my voice carry in a stage whisper across the table, I smiled as he played along and tilted his own head closer. “My mom thinks she owns me, all because of the dangling promise of my future inheritance.” Billy’s fingers were still toying with me, but his eyes were locked on mine. “Which is hilarious, since I actually came into the bulk of my money when I turned eighteen, five years after my LAST grandparent died. She forgets that I used part of it to pay for college, a VERY small part of it.” I could see him fighting a laugh. “Not only that,” I leaned closer, wanting so badly to just kiss the living fuck out of him instead of dealing with this nonsense. “But Dad took over my granddad’s company, and he hasn’t added a SINGLE client to it since. I have a feeling,” a glance at my parents showed me they were RIVETED and appalled at the information I’d gathered in preparation for what they assumed would be their heavy handed negotiations. “I’m in better financial state than they are, but they STILL insist on paying for my membership to this fucking hellhole.” I kissed him then, too happy to hold back, because I knew with that parting shot I’d done it. I won. 

Billy Butcher didn’t disappoint. Once my lips brushed his, he took over, moving his errant hand to join the other cupping my face and taking the kiss we BOTH wanted, audience be damned. And as our tongues touched, I vaguely heard a throat clearing, but couldn’t have stopped tasting the man I loved if I wanted to, and I truly didn’t want to. 

Our dinner didn’t last much longer. We did ask for our meals to be wrapped up so we could take them with us, after all, I hated the club, but their food was amazing. It took no time to get the beautiful, heavy bag of food, and I didn’t glance at my very angry parents as we walked away. I didn’t blush when Billy’s hand went farther south as we weaved through the tables filled with the snooty assholes that my parents claimed as friends. I didn’t pay attention to the whispers, or the looks, because all I could focus on was getting Billy home and having dessert. Hours and hours of dessert, and then once that craving was satisfied, maybe we’d have dinner.


	24. After Dinner Comes...

“Veronica?” Billy’s voice was low, deep, and just loud enough to hear over the road noise. I settled into the passenger seat, buckled in carefully, the food we didn’t eat tucked between us, but at the sound of my name on his lips, I turned to see him staring out the windshield as he drove us back to my house. “You had me thinking that this was going to be an uncomfortable dinner,” I smiled, knowing that I’d given him a gift of sorts by making it quick. “Instead, here we are with a bag of food and heading out before we could finish our drinks.”

I bit my lip, trying to keep from giggling. “Is that a complaint, or-” he swerved the car off a side road, overgrown a bit and definitely not close to my house. “Billy?”

“Can’t wait,” and then my seat belt was unfastening, the bag of food on the floor where my feet had been, and somehow I was under him on the bench seat of the car. His lips crashed down on mine and it was like we were truly starving, for one another. Forcing his jacket off his shoulders as he was untying the fabric belt around my waist, and then his hands were on the hem of my skirt, pulling it higher on my hips while I was unbuttoning his jeans. 

“Thank God you have this car,” I muttered into his mouth as he was yanking at my panties, truly thankful that his car had a front bench seat. “Just rip them,” I bit out, needing him NOW, sighing in happiness when the sound of the flimsy barrier being dealt with hit my ears. Using my feet, shocking both of us, I was forcing his pants down, and I felt his fingers and hands helping. His need for me, to be inside of me, was as heavy as my need for him to be buried deep within me. 

Pants down, boxers following, we finally met, skin to skin and I bit his shoulder to keep from screaming. “We’re all alone, Ronnie,” he growled, slamming into me, reminding me that we didn’t have to be quiet. “Let go.” 

And we did, both of us. All the pent up want and need. All the frustration that came with dealing with my parents, with the fear that our meetings with the supes weren’t going to run smoothly, with the angst that kept creeping in as we fought against it came to a head and I found myself thankful for so damn much. The car’s seat, which wasn’t simply wide enough for us to couple easily, but also easy to adjust our positions, from me underneath and at Billy’s mercy, to straddling him and having my own control take over, I would never stop thanking the manufacturer for creating such a miracle of a car. I was grateful for the deserted spot that Billy found, where we could truly let go without waiting to get to my house, because we would have combusted from the delay. And for Billy Butcher, a man that would forever surprise me and who I hoped I would be able to keep satisfied, content, and filled with love for me. 

If I had the gift of foresight, I would have taken even longer to appreciate the moment. To tuck away the memory in technicolor detail, safe and private would have been a priority. Hindsight, I found, wouldn’t help what was coming. Nor would it make things easier to deal with or less of a clusterfuck of irritation. I’d have to, once the pieces fell into place or disarray depending on how you looked at it, take things as they came. I just really fucking wished that they came less fast and furious. And maybe with less fucking annoyances.

We managed to make it to my house eventually. We had dinner and fell into bed, our bodies like magnets fitted together perfectly. The next morning dawned as mornings were prone to do, and we fell into our routine without fanfare.

Maeve’s visit wasn’t as tense as A-Train’s. She listened. She gave us what we asked and she assured us that she’d stay in touch should the need arise. I hadn’t expected ripples with her, and I got none. 

Another day closed, another report created and shared, then home for more rounds of happy distraction before we woke up and started again.

I almost forgot who was scheduled for that day, when I woke up to Billy’s mouth teasing the skin of my shoulder. I nearly let it slip away, like the sheets covering our bodies, when his hips cradled between my thighs. It was close to being relegated to the deep recesses of my mind as he slid into me, as our movements matched one another’s, and it definitely wasn’t at the forefront of my mind as my body rushed past the point of control and pulled Billy’s along with me. 

Showering let the day’s schedule come creeping to the surface and had me studying Billy’s exuberant mood with a more suspicious view. Starlight was due midmorning and would definitely be accompanied by Hughie if for no other reason than moral support. Had Soldier Boy actually confirmed his own appointment?

“Billy?” I was drying off, watching him dress in the mirror. “Did the supe you went over my head to get Joseph to bring in today confirm?”

His smirk told me more than his fucking words. Damn it. “Course he did,” he was buttoning up his shirt and I could swear he was about to start whistling he was so fucking full of it. “Had Joe make sure Soldier Twat and Hughie’s supe are lined up nice and efficient.” 

“Efficient?” I snorted, dry enough to start dressing. “I’m guessing you mean efficiently embarrassing or tense for Hughie.”

“Don’t you think that he should see what’s lurking in her past?” The raised eyebrow, the tone of complete innocence had me chuckling. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t give him a leg up?”

I shook my head, but kept dressing. If wreaking havoc on poor Hughie made Billy happy, then why not allow him a tiny shred of it? What was the worst that could happen, right?

“Hughie,” Starlight’s voice was pleading, yet her eyes were glaring at Billy’s grinning face. “He and I-” Soldier Boy, looking oddly smug and arrogant where he sat on Starlight’s other side, had me shaking my head again. “We’re the past, and you and I are-” 

“The future,” I offered, please God let this fucking day end. “Clearly, Hughie, she and you are together now, while mister-” I let whatever I’d hoped to follow the word drop. “They had their moment in the sun, and now they’re-”

“Done,” Billy’s voice was shaking with held in laughter, and I knew he was giving me a look of disbelief that I was so completely wrecked by the disaster that sat before us that I was fucking rhyming. Jesus. “What Ronnie is saying is that, well, it don’t matter now.” His gaze landed on Hughie who was looking quite green at the moment. “You and your girl, that’s cemented, right?” 

Hughie’s eyes met Billy’s and he swallowed hard enough for everyone in the office to hear it. “Yeah, that’s right.” Shutting his eyes to fortify himself, he nodded as though agreeing to some internal dialogue only he could hear. “Let’s get on with what you guys brought them in for.” 

Soldier Boy, as it was, answered my questions easily and as far as I could tell honestly. He accepted my card, and as though he couldn’t read a room at all, offered to give Starlight a call when he got settled in. Shit. He left, and now there were just the four of us. Stalemate.

“Now, Starlight-” I started, hoping to get the meeting over and done with so I could mentally unwind. Of course, that wouldn’t happen.

“How could you?” She sounded so hurt that I felt secondhand guilt for Billy’s mischievousness. “Why would you do that? Parade him in here like-”

“Like a side by side with Hughie?” Billy’s head tilted even as I pondered smacking mine against the surface of my desk. “Because, princess, he should know that you’ve swam in the supe waters. And I bet you didn’t have to reign in your powers while you were deep diving, did ya?” Shit, fuck, hell. Not only did he have to keep poking the bear about her past with the less than cleverly named supe, but he had to toss in a few reminders of The Deep? Kill me now, please. 

Eventually, after voices raised past the levels I would ever deem fit for a work environment, after Starlight and Billy tossed down every damn gauntlet that could be thrown, and after both Hughie and I gave up entirely and let them go, we got back to business. A whole day spent in couples therapy with two people who weren’t a fucking couple. Fun stuff, people, fun stuff.

By the end, Starlight begrudgingly took my card, Hughie barely spoke to Billy, but it was done. Our last meeting of the best known supes in the city, except one. And he reminded me as we packed up at the end of the day.

“Gonna have to bring him in too, love.” His hand was on my lower back, leading me to my truck. “Otherwise it looks like we’re playing favorites.”   
Sighing I nodded. “Yeah, I know.” He joined me in the truck, not arguing over who would drive and we started home. “I’m not looking forward to another sit down with his pompous ass.” 

“Yeah, but at least I’ll be there this time,” not necessarily a selling point, I thought, but felt a slight comfort in knowing he’d be with me. “Cause there’s no way you meet him alone again.”


	25. Poking the Bear...Or A Normal Day?

The request was sent to Homelander for an official appointment. While we waited for the confirmation on that, we met with the team to brainstorm the next steps in the path forward. Hughie, after that tense meeting with Starlight present, returned to the fold at least partially. 

Billy wasn’t keen on the idea that held the most promise. To be honest, I wasn’t exactly excited about it either, but it was something we had to consider. Putting Billy back in the field, having him help the others work through the leads on the ground made sense. There were only three active members, two of whom worked as a pair, and another who deserved time with his family. Hughie was working with Neuman, but he offered to do any research he could during his downtime. It was after a couple more meetings, and so many conversations over dinner between just the two of us, that he finally relented. 

Billy Butcher was heading back to the field, so to speak. But only if I agreed to schedule any further meetings with supes when he was home, or when another member of our team could be present. I agreed, but then he clarified.

“I mean THE TEAM, Ronnie,” holding back an eye roll was a close thing. “That means Frenchie and Kimiko, MM, me, or-” he sighed at the thought of it, but had to offer him up since they were working through their latest hiccup. “Hughie. Not Joey.” Damn it. 

“Fine.” Agreeing meant that I got a long lingering kiss that stoked a fire for my REAL prize. I’d like to say that as an adult woman with the title of doctor in front of her name wasn’t so easily won over, but I try hard not to lie. And saying that I wouldn’t give in to Billy with a promise of his body flush against mine, bare skin to bare skin would be the worst sort of lie.

And after he gave me my gold star as it was, hovering over me, catching his breath and staring into my eyes, he reminded me why he needed my compliance, why it was so damn important to him that I not meet with a supe without someone he trusted by my side. “I love you, Veronica, and I can’t lose you.” The tone of his voice was rough as sandpaper, and a part of me wanted to think it was only from our exercise, but as I swallowed down against the pounding of my heart, I knew. It wasn’t only from sex, it didn’t come from the noises we could force from one another without trying, no in his voice I heard the pain of his loss. The reminder of how his wife had died, and how he couldn’t stand the possibility that I’d suffer the same fate.

“You won’t.” I promised, kissing him with every ounce of my love for him, hoping that I could keep that promise.

The first thing that Billy and the Boys chose to do was focus on knocking out as many of the supe whereabouts unknown files as possible. When I insisted he have backup, he raised an eyebrow, but conceded when I told him I wanted him as safe as he wanted me. The team split, Frenchie and Kimiko and Billy and MM. I also asked for daily updates, from both teams, to be sure I could track them with more than just their cell phone locations. No contact meant the other team would abandon their list and go find the other team. Should neither team call, Mallory told me that she had put together a smaller team that’s sole purpose would be to act as recovery and if necessary clean-up crew for any messes the team created. 

When Billy and I said goodbye, at the office with the team looking on, it wasn’t nearly the farewell we both wanted. I think both of us tried to focus on work, and on the fact that we’d spent the night before departure giving one another that more concerted effort, but this was Billy Butcher and Veronica Taylor we’re talking about and I wasn’t sure the two of us were ever going to be able to settle with not fully satisfying our every urge for one another. 

Once they left, Mallory called to confirm they were on their way, and I went to work trying to piece more information together about our mystery supe. My focus returned to work. My meticulous nature took over and I almost forgot that Billy wasn’t nearby doing his own research. When lunch came around, it hit me again that he wasn’t with me, but I shrugged it off and ordered in. This was my new routine. Our new routine, and fighting against it wouldn’t make it less real. 

It should have been easy to fall back into my old normal, coupled with daily check-ins to calm any fears that might start creeping in, and it was. I worked as I had worked before I became completely engrossed by Billy Butcher. The reminder of him through calls, texts, emails of reports along with the rest of the team kept the fear that something would happen to him firmly at bay. 

I should have known that it was too simple. That the ease of it, the normalness of this new daily grind was deceptively comfortable. I didn’t. Instead, I went about my days without allowing the possibility that heading this new office might be dangerous. I focused on the times between Billy’s field work, when he would come home and we’d get lost in one another again. I focused on the mundane of the grind of day to day work. Appointments, errands, reports, and every other thing that work or regular life entailed. 

During one of the now regular duty trips that took Billy and the team back out on the road, I took a day off to do personal errands. I had my yearly exam scheduled and I also made an appointment with the benefits office of human resources along with an appointment with my lawyer and with my insurance agency. Now that our work was getting slightly more notice-I’d been asked to do three interviews a week earlier for national and international news stations and when I’d started to pack up for the day’s end only the day prior, Anthony told me he had more requests with papers, magazines, and more stations, I wanted to make sure I had my affairs in order. I wasn’t courting disaster, I was being smart. 

My doctor’s appointment came first. When I walked into the clinic to sign in, I was told that my regular physician had been called away on a family emergency, but they had a substitute if I was agreeable. The choice being reschedule and take the chance on the reliance of condoms versus waiting and getting my birth control shot and the confidence it gave me for pregnancy prevention. So not a real choice, because I wasn’t ready to be a mother, and I wasn’t sure Billy ever wanted to be a father. My wait wasn’t long, the doctor asked all the regular questions and the nurse hovered at my head while he went to work so to speak. Practically painless with a shot in my arm and confirmation that I’d return for the next dose within the parameters, I was in my car heading to the next appointment with plenty of time to spare.

I changed my beneficiary information at both the benefits office and with my insurance company, upgrading my policy with the theory that it is always better to be safe rather than sorry. At my lawyer’s office, we redid my power of attorney and tweaked my will. I honestly wasn’t thinking about a present threat while I went about my day, I only wanted to make sure that my affairs were up to date, that my ducks were in a row. By the time I got home, I had been contacted by both teams, with a promise from Billy that he’d be home soon. 

Such an ordinary day, almost forgettable aside from the fact that I hadn’t been in the office at all. Why would I ever assume that something happened that day that would alter my life? That would put me in danger or that would make me question everything I knew? I challenge anyone to have such a normal day and make it nefarious. Because trust me, I’ve tried to work through my head, over and over, just how I missed it.


	26. Welcome Home?

“You did what?” Billy was looking at me like I might be slightly crazy, but he loved me so what did that make him? I had just told him about the changes I’d made during my errands and he was taking it well. If ‘well’ was defined as considering having me tested for insanity, that is.

I rolled my eyes and stole the carton of noodles from him. We were having dinner in bed, Chinese food cartons scattered around us, it was a miracle my linens weren’t a mess. “I changed my beneficiary to you, William Butcher, and you also have power over my unconscious body should it become necessary. If it helps you sleep at night, most of my fortune will end up going to animal rescue sites.” I shrugged, and took a bite from the forkful of noodles I had in front of my mouth. Why was this so bothersome to him?

“Only your unconscious body?” Shit, my eyes met his and I had to remind myself how to chew. “Ronnie, I’m not sure I want all that responsibility.” That caused my eyebrow to raise in warning. He wanted the responsibility to screw me, love me, and keep me safe, but not deal with my corpse or insurance? Really?

After swallowing carefully, I put the noodles down and took a deep breath, reminding myself to count down from ten so I didn’t do something ridiculous like throw the carton at his head. “Billy, do you love me?” He started to open his mouth, but I stopped him. “That was more of a rhetorical question. I know you do. You love me, you want to keep me safe, and you don’t want to think about the reality of me being human.” He studied me intently as I went on. “I’m human, you remind me of that almost daily, it’s why I can’t meet with Homelander or the other supes without you or one of our team present, correct?” This time he nodded before I spoke again. “By that logic, even without outside interference, I WILL die one day. And when that inevitability happens, I don’t want there to be any question of my expectations.” 

I shifted the cartons out of the way and curled up into his arms. His hands curled around my bare skin, his face burying in my hair, and I gave us both a few moments to calm down more. 

“I love you, Billy, but you can’t see every action I take as me saying goodbye or preparing for an early death.” He went tense again, but I carried on. “People die, every single day, and I will too one day. Not that I plan on giving up the ghost anytime soon,” I tilted my head back so I could look up at him. “I haven’t had my fill of you, not nearly, and I won’t go until we’re both sick of one another.” 

His dimples peeked out and his thumb brushed across my cheekbone. “Planning on becoming immortal are you?” His lips met mine and we got lost in one another, and my surprise at my sheets not being ruined by our picnic was knocked aside, because I could care less about sheets, or stains, nothing mattered when Billy Butcher pulled me to him and our bodies joined. Nothing.

We were in the office the next Monday. Lesser known supes were due for appointments, and we were still waiting for his majesty Homelander to verify his availability so Billy and I sat together doing what was almost becoming a script. Billy would have to bring out bad cop now and then, with a more headstrong or arrogant supe, but more usual was compliance. Acceptance seemed more and more likely as each supe that week came and went.

As we were packing it in on Friday, happy to have had a full week with one another, and a weekend to truly get lost together, an email came in. I would have ignored it, but Billy’s dinged as well. Homelander was willing to meet two weeks out, after checking with me, he confirmed it and we went home knowing that a face off was coming, but not knowing what else would come with it.

A few days before our scheduled meeting with Homelander, I had my head buried in the toilet as Billy stood in the doorway after I swore I’d kill him if he came closer. I swore, as I vomited hard and heavy, that I could taste food that I’d eaten as a child make a reappearance. My nose was stuffed up from the crying that vomiting forced me to do, and I knew I looked and smelled like death. I hated life and the world at that moment. 

Then, once deemed empty, I felt fine. As though I hadn’t just become intimately acquainted with the interior of my toilet bowl. I actually felt strangely good. Washing my face and brushing my teeth, I felt my stomach rumble and thought about how hungry I was. As if I hadn’t thrown up everything I’d ever considered eating, I suddenly craved food. Lots of food. Greasy and filling food. 

“Are you alright?” Billy cupped my chin and tipped my head back so he could look into my face fully. “Fever?” I shook my head and smiled up at him. “Ronnie?”

“I’m hungry.” I chuckled. “Like really really hungry.” Using both arms around his neck I pulled him down so I could kiss him, and then my hunger was diverted to another craving. Him. I wanted him. Naked and under me. Now. I was pulling his shirt off and unbuttoning his pants when his hands stopped me. “Billy.” It came out a whining plea. I was burning with need for him. My skin felt like fire and that’s when he turned me to face the mirror. Steam was actually coming off my skin. What the fuck?!

“Ronnie, I think we need to get you to the doctor.” I could see and feel how worried he was, and I had to admit, this time so was I.

Ever been to the ER and you’re sitting there thinking, maybe I should just go home? You’re surrounded by gunshot victims, and knife wounds, and you think so I steam a little bit, at least my ear hasn’t been bitten off like that guy’s, right?

Oddly enough, Billy Butcher did not think that my skin steaming like a train engine was less worrisome than Mr. LacksAnEar. And so we sat, and sat, until finally a bored voice called my name. After dealing with triage and vitals, my internal temperature didn’t seem to match the steaming skin temperature making Billy look very smug at his insistence that we stay, I was handed a cup to pee in. Now I could argue with the nurse about peeing in said cup, but what was the point? Not like I’m on drugs, I’m on birth control, at most the pee was going to show kidney issues, right?

Once that was done, we were led to a room and I was told to put on the truly modest gown provided and told that a doctor would be in shortly. Billy helped me with the gown and I started steaming more, forcing him to move away. Damn it. Whatever this was, I hope the doctor had a quick fix, not having Billy’s skin against me- Damn it, the steam rose as I even contemplated him naked now. 

“Oh, my,” the doctor offered as he walked in at that moment. “That doesn’t seem-”

I glared at him through the fog, and Billy chuckled. The doctor began a routine examination, asking the same questions that are asked a million times a day. When was my last period? Not a clue because my birth control stints it. How did I feel aside from the steam? Aside from puking up everything I ate, great. I could run a marathon or have marathon sex. That thought caused the steam to start up again. Shit. A nurse came to the door and gestured for the doctor. 

I sighed as I waited, ignoring the doctor and nurse’s animated conversation since I imagined it was something to do with another patient. When he came back in, he looked troubled. 

“Miss-”

“Doctor,” Billy corrected, but the doctor assumed he had a question so he stopped speaking. “No, Doc, Veronica-she’s a doctor. Not a Miss. A doctor.”

“Ah, yes, I apologize, Dr. Taylor.” I nodded, thinking what the fuck? “Your urinalysis is complete and well-” I watched him gulp and felt a ripple of fear run through me. “When was it that you had your last birth control shot?” I told him and he nodded absently. “And before that?” I gave him the time before, the right time frame for that particular form of birth control. “Well, it appears that- You know that no birth control is a hundred percent effective, correct?” And he might have said more, but I was out. Darkness hit me hard and fast and I didn’t hear another word until I woke up.

It was dark, which was strange, given that we’d gotten to the ER in the early morning, missing work. If it was dark, then I missed an entire fucking day. I blinked awake, trying to discern where I was. The mattress was crinkly, which made me assume, rightly that I was still at the hospital. I groaned. Did I imagine the doctor was about to tell me that I was- No, of course not, I just overheated from the steam. What was up with the steam? Did I miss contracting a fucking weird fever?

“Hey,” I smiled at the sound of his voice. Billy was sitting close to the bed that I woke up on, and his hand took mine. “Glad you’re finally awake, scared me shitless.”

“Sorry,” I turned to see him in the dim light he flicked on with a button on the side of the bed. “Don’t know what came over me.”

“Not everyday you hear you’re gonna be a mom, Ronnie.” Shit, fuck, shit. “Or that I’m gonna be a dad.” 

“So that was real?” I asked, shaking my head to clear it. “How?” I couldn’t understand it. I mean sure, Billy and I were basically rabbits when we got together, but my birth control never failed, not so much as a scare since I started it. 

“They’re running tests.” I nodded, and he smirked. “Guess you giving me full power over your knocked out body came in handy after all.” I laughed in spite of how scared I was. Something wasn’t right. Pregnant or not, why the fuck was I steaming? “We’re gonna figure it out, Ronnie, I promise.”

“Ah good, Dr. Taylor, I see you’re awake.” The doctor from the ER had returned. “Your pregnancy has been confirmed, there’s another test I want to run. Hopefully it will explain the other issue you are experiencing.” You mean steaming like a hot shower? I nodded. “Unfortunately this test can only be done once your pregnancy progresses to 15 weeks. And it has to be performed by an obstetrician.” Great, a wait. “I’ve had the office compile a list of obstetricians in the area, so you can make an appointment. Once the doctor confirms how far along you are, they can schedule an amniocentesis. I think, I’m not sure, but I think the fetus is the cause of your-” he gestured to the warm air coming off of me like a street grate. 

“The fetus?” Billy was staring at the doctor in disbelief. “Why would a human fetus do that?” 

“Mr. Butcher,” the doctor removed his glasses and sat down heavily on the foot of my bed. “I can’t be sure the baby is human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so yes, I'm going in a direction that is a tad different than I'd considered at first. The few things I want to make a note of is this: supe to human pregnacies would be different in physiology (morning sickness, and other side effects would go wonky) and I think that even if the fetus grows normally, then mommy might feel more than the usual regular type of shit. Hence the steaming. Plus, who wouldn't steam thinking of Billy Butcher naked underneath them?
> 
> Hang on to your hats, folks, it's just getting started.


	27. Chapter 27

So the doctor drops EPIC bombshell about how the tiny invader might not be human and then discharged me. Billy, very solicitous of my every need, even if being close to me meant that his face was steamed, looked thunderous when he thought I didn’t notice. I thought about Becca, about what Homelander had done to her, and I shut my eyes tight.

“Ronnie?” I nodded, letting him know I was listening as I sat in his car while he drove us home. “Sweetheart, what are you thinking about?” I shook my head, eyes still closed tight. “Whatever it is, you stopped steaming.” Shit.

“Becca.” I muttered, and it felt like the world stopped turning. “I was thinking about Becca and how pissed you look when you think I’m not looking and I can swear this much, Billy, it didn’t happen to me.” I didn’t think I needed to elaborate what ‘it’ was in this scenario. “I haven’t been alone with a single supe, not one, and definitely not a male one.” 

“Veronica, honey,” I kept my eyes shut, seeing him might mean we’d have to open windows to keep the windshield view clear, like we’d had to do that morning. “I never-” I heard him swallow. “One of them did this, Ronnie, maybe not the same way with Becca, but they violated you all the same.” 

“I know,” I felt a tear run down my cheek, feeling completely freaked out on multiple levels. Pregnant when I was so damn careful to not become pregnant. Pregnant with the complication that thinking about touching the man I love came with a horrible side effect of causing my skin to literally steam. And most of all, pregnant by an unknown source, against my consent and forced to wait to find out by which one. Or did I? “Billy?” I heard him murmur that he heard me. “Take me to the office.” 

“Ronnie, I think work can wait-”

“Billy, take me to the office, NOW.” I opened my eyes and was happy to see that being occupied with a purpose other than sex kept the steam at bay. “I know how to find out who’s bun is inside of me.” 

He hooked a u-turn and powered back toward the city and our office. “How?” His eyes stayed on the road, but he was intent on listening to my idea.

“Remember how I found out about Stillwell’s son?” He nodded and I went on. “I have access to that database. Homelander knows I know that they keep track of the genetic material of supes, but he doesn’t know where.” And I had a feeling he wanted us to know who’s makeup was currently circulating in my womb. “Even if he does-”

“He wants us to know.” He bit out, figuring it out as easily as I did, once the angst of the news lessened. “That fucker.” 

“We have to be smart about this, Billy.” I needed him to understand. Knowing that I was impregnated by Homelander, or another supe via some other window wouldn’t do much. “The argument could always be that I wanted to be artificially inseminated, like Stillwell.” He growled. “Once we know how, then we work through what to do.”

“You gonna keep it?” Ah, the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Would I choose a supe baby or Billy? 

“It isn’t mine.” I answered, ignoring the fact that some of the mix was mine, but I hadn’t asked for it, in fact I didn’t want a baby. Not yet. If ever. 

“You don’t have to-” I took his hand and he glanced at me as he drove on. 

“I know, Billy, but the fact that you want it to be MY choice, that tells me more about you and why I love you.” I kept his hand in mine as we made our way to the office. “This person didn’t ask me, Billy, they took away my choice, different from what happened with Becca,” his fingers tightened around mine. “But they still took it from me and tried to force this on me. Once we know, and we figure out what the path forward is, I don’t plan on being held hostage for a choice I didn’t make.” And with that, Billy realized the difference between Becca and me. I had to wonder if he’d appreciate it or if it would be our undoing.

Luckily Billy had his fob on him, because mine was still at the house. Inside the office, I logged onto the database that I was granted access to for supe affairs. Billy took his chair and pulled it close to me, so we could click through together. 

“The last three ‘withdraws’ so to speak were of,” my fingers highlighted the three lines of data. “Now, we click on each and it will tell us where the samples went to, who requested them, and where they were utilized.” The first was from A-Train and went to testing, the second was from Translucent and went to the mother of his son. That raised a few questions, but I left them. The last was a Homelander sample, but I nearly screamed at the name that supposedly requested it. Mine. And it was sent to my clinic where I had my exam. And the doctor that was conveniently there to replace mine signed off. “FUCK.”

“Calm down, Ronnie, there’s this.” He pointed at the doctor’s name. “Didn’t you say your doctor was called out for a family emergency?” I nodded. “Then how did the doc there sign off on the sample a week earlier. That seems kind of suspect don’t you think?” I’d missed it, but he was right. The doctor had confirmed and agreed to taking possession a week prior to my appointment. 

“I’ll have to request proof that my doctor was called away and why, if she even was.” I wondered. “Give me a moment.” I saved what we’d found and then clicked over to the clinic that I usually went to. A few clicks, a thankful prayer that I’d been given top clearance at the agency, and I was in. Clicking through the doctor logs for that day, I smiled. “See this?” I pointed at a folder of files for the day under my doctor’s heading. “That’s proof that my doctor was there, and that I was given an unknown doctor, now a little deeper.” I did a search for the doctor who aided Homelander in this newest despicable act. “He doesn’t actually work at this clinic,” Billy’s eyes were scanning as I worked. “That means that either I asked specifically for him, or he was there with the aid of some helpers.” 

“Let’s leave the rest for morning,” Billy insisted, tapping the laptop off and grabbing the usb stick I’d saved everything we’d found on. “You’ve had a long day, Ronnie, and you need sleep.” 

I didn’t argue, I was tired. Bone tired. So tired that I fell asleep in the car as he drove us to the house. I woke up as he carried me into the bedroom and laid me on the bed. “Aren’t you coming to bed?” I asked, as he stepped away. 

“Course,” he smiled down at me, tugging off his boots and pants. “Just didn’t dress for a sick day, Ronnie, so I thought I’d get comfortable first.” Seeing him unbuttoning his shirt woke me all the way up, and then the steam started rising. “Veronica,” I bit my lip and nodded. “Think even your sick day clothes might be a bit uncomfortable, don’t you?” 

I might have ripped a few pieces of my clothes as I tore them off, but then he was over top of me, and I couldn’t care about anything but Billy. Not the steam, not the tiny alien inside of me, not tomorrow or the day after, only him. And me. And as our bodies joined together, I knew I made the right choice. Billy Butcher over an unknown being? Not even close.


	28. And Down Will Come...

I woke up with Billy’s chest beneath my cheek, and our bare legs tangled under the sheets that twisted over the lower half of our bodies. Scared to look, but feeling like not looking was cowardly, I took a chance and glanced at my bare arm curled up his chest and the hand that was holding tight to his neck. No steam. Closing my eyes, I sighed in relief, and felt him shift under me. The one part of Billy that woke before all the other parts of him nudged my thigh where my leg was tossed over him and I felt the rush of need for him hit hard and fast. Shit.

Eyes opening with less willingness than the first time, I sighed again, this time with resignation at the sight of the steam rising slowly off that same arm. Damn it. 

“Ronnie?” His voice, still rough from sleep, let me know that he felt my tension as did his arms wrapping more firmly around me. “It’s alright, love, you know that.” 

Sure, I thought, he wasn’t the one who had to worry about fogging up the windows. He was right, at least where the two of us were concerned, since we’d found out that while my temperature was definitely higher skin level, it wasn’t anywhere near too hot to keep us apart. Which helped me calm down, marginally. “How the hell am I supposed to drive to work like this?” I asked, almost growling as the steam seemed to kick up a notch. 

“I’ll drive,” his lips brushed my forehead and I could feel his smile. “We can roll down the windows, like yesterday, or we can turn on the damn air.” I sighed, and settled into his embrace letting him deal with the issues that my rising skin temperature would cause for our commute. “You know I’m cancelling any field work for me, right?” Another sigh, I hated this, hated that our lives were being caused so much inconvenience because one superhuman asshole decided to fuck with us. 

“I suspected you might,” I turned so my face was pressed against his chest, breathing him in and kissing his skin. Propping my chin on his chest, I looked up to see him studying me with a soft smile. “Overprotective and ridiculous, those are two more words to throw in that file of yours.” 

His thumb traced my cheekbone, under my eye, and down to the dip where my lip met my chin. “I’ll wear ‘em with pride, Veronica.” His eyes were as soft as his smile. “I’m beside you until we get this settled, and after that, we’ll renegotiate.” He pulled me up so our faces were inches apart, and I hoped I misheard the muttered, “maybe,” that came from his lips before he kissed me.

A shower, which was somehow steamier with cooler water than it normally was with hot, then we were dressed and on our way. I was dressed professionally, but in the lightest of my summer work clothes. I’d even left off my jacket, afraid to tempt the steam into rising so high that I’d set off alarms in the building. It took windows down along with the air at full blast to keep the windshield clear enough for Billy to see out of and I felt my ire growing. 

Homelander, because acting like I didn’t know who put this in motion, would pay. Somehow, someway, he’d pay. I just had to make sure that Billy didn’t share the cost. 

While we met with a few of the lesser supes, rescheduled from the day before, coupled with the ones we had scheduled for that day, I kept clicking through the clinic pages looking for something I could use to nail Homelander to the wall. Nothing came. Not even lunch, which Billy insisted we eat out of the office, helped get my mind off of my personal issue and back on the work at hand.

“Ronnie,” I looked across the table, blinking at the realization that I had a full plate of food in front of me that I didn’t remember ordering, and saw Billy’s brow furrowed in worry. “Eat, please?” 

I picked up my fork and reluctantly dug in. I ate with the same absent mindedness that I’d handled work, mechanically and thorough, but without noticing what was going on around me. My mind was running in circles, trying to think of a way to link Homelander to the doctor who stepped in for my doctor who was supposed to be out due to a family emergency. It hit me. The receptionist. The one who told me, as I signed in, that my doctor was out. She had to be in on it, but would she be the link or would she be another dead end?

Lunch finished, Billy hoisted me into my truck and shook his head as I kept the door open while he got in. “No point in making the entire restaurant think we’re getting steamy for good reasons,” I muttered as he joined me and turned the truck on. Once the windows were cracked and the air was blowing, I shut my door. 

“I love you,” Billy offered as he pulled the car into traffic flow to head back to our office. “And this is just a fucking bump, Ronnie, you know that.” 

I nodded, but I wondered. Was it? 

The receptionist, I learned as I called the clinic, was a temp. She was a fill in for someone who’d called in last minute and they’d been lucky she was available. I was given her name and the name of the agency they used, but as I hung up I started getting a feeling that it wasn’t going to be so simple. 

“What’s next?” Billy was pecking away at a report on one of the supes we met with, a job I usually powered through quickly and easily, but he’d taken over while I worked on what was plaguing my mind. 

I sighed and sat back. “It’s too simple.” I bit my cheek as he stopped tapping at the keys of his laptop and looked over at me. “All of it. It’s too easy.” He waited while I gathered my thoughts. “The database, using my code to request the sperm, the doctor, the receptionist. It’s all too easy to put together.” Homelander was impulsive, see Becca Butcher’s rape, but he wasn’t stupid. Entitled, sure of his own superiority, yes, but stupid? No. I was squinting while I tried to piece it together and shook my head as it dawned on me. “It isn’t just about us.” Billy’s eyes widened. “He wants the doubt about the security of the office to start seeping in. He wants me to think that we’re being recorded like he was- with Stillwell and then Stormfront. He wants me to think that my security is lax and I can’t trust anyone here.” I looked at Billy. “He wants me to be irrational and you to take the bait.” 

“I make the first move and he-” Billy’s head was shaking now. “Diabolical cunt. Or trying to be.” 

“You make a move, he gets to defend himself. Hell, if he can work it just so, he can pretend he was protecting his unborn child.” I glanced down with distaste at my midsection. “He thinks he has us.” 

“And he’s coming in here tomorrow,” Billy reminded me, eyes bright and dimple popping out. 

“So let’s make sure he’s got a nice warm welcome shall we?”


	29. Baby... Cradle and All...

The next morning dawned with both Billy and me feeling pretty damn happy with our lot. First of all, I had made sure that my security codes, and Billy’s were changed with a nice little quirk that I thought Homelander might appreciate. Or not, it didn’t matter. After that, over dinner, I researched something that had me a touch concerned, but once I found proof that it was a non-issue, both of us enjoyed a warm bath (tepid, since Billy plus me in my current state made everything a few degrees warmer automatically). Then we slipped into bed and after working up a nice exhaustion, slept the sleep of two people who were about to ruin a superhuman douchebag’s day.

Dressed in another light as I could make it outfit and still look professional, Billy’s dimples hadn’t left his face since we woke up entwined, steaming skin be damned. Once again, we drove into the office in my truck, the windows cracked and the air cranked up. We went over our plans for lunch, feeling that we’d have quite the appetite after our meeting with Homelander. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, as he helped me down from the truck to go to work. I looked up at him, not giving a damn about how much steam I might be producing, because I was feeling pretty damn good. “That good, eh?” My smile widened and he leaned forward to kiss me. “Let’s go piss off American’s biggest arsehole, shall we?” 

Laughing we went inside, and waited for the supe who thought he was a puppet master to come visit and learn he was a mouse in our maze.

Homelander was late, but that could be because of the welcome he received from the people on the street outside. Anthony informed us that he was outside, but we waited, door open for the man of the hour to come to us. Seated behind our desks, mirrors of one another, looking as unconcerned as we were.

We could hear him begging off, with faux modesty, telling his adoring fans that he had an appointment and he’d sign autographs when he was finished. I wanted to roll my eyes or throw up, but I held back. I could give in to my temptations after we dealt with the cape wearing thorn in our sides.

“Ah, Dr. Taylor and Mr. Butcher.” He was smiling as wide as he did during one of the required publicity stunts The Seven were contracted to attend. “Don’t get up,” sounding gracious, he shut the door and walked confidently to the single chair we’d placed between our desks. “Don’t you look, warm.” His eyes locked on mine, and I smiled. “I heard you were unwell, Dr. Taylor, I hope you feel better.” 

“Much.” I answered, my tone as clear and concise as ever. “Now, Homelander, let’s go through your file, shall we?” 

“My file?” He stared at me as I looked up, and I smiled without speaking. “I thought we’d have more important things to talk about.” His eyes shifted to where my midsection was hidden from the room by my desk, but not from his vision, which was his first mistake. Reminding me of that particular power. 

“Oh,” my smile grew and my hand touched my stomach absently. “I have a little virus, and I have an appointment scheduled to take care of it.” Flipping open the file I had on my desk, I went back to what a supe appointment normally entailed. “Now, Homelander, it says here-”

“Take care of it?” His smile was starting to look a tad forced, oh dear. “Aren’t you going to at least make certain it’s unwanted?” His eyes shifted to Billy and I knew the man I love would be smirking. “Why be rash?”

“Rash?” Billy’s head tilted. “Don’t think a woman should be questioned about her right to her own body, do you?” I schooled my features against showing anything more than benign courtesy while Billy stared down the supe with laser eyes. “It would be a shame for a woman to be forced to choose between the man she loves something she didn’t choose, wouldn’t it?” 

“Where were we?” I brought Homelander’s focus back to me. The point wasn’t to get him to attack, it was to keep him off his game. “The last time you were checked, the powers I have listed for you are-” 

“You and I both know, Dr. Taylor, that you have a tiny being inside of you right now.” He was trying so damn hard to get me to admit to the condition his sorry ass forced on me, and to admit I was angry and Billy was angry I almost felt pity for him. Almost. 

“Again, Homelander, I have an appointment to take care of a problem. While I appreciate your concern, today’s appointment is to make contact with you and let you know how our office will be handling superhuman situations and conditions.” I went back to the file, starting with the first of his powers and got to the fifth before he snorted. “I’m sorry, did I miss one?” 

“What game are you playing?” His eyes were locked on mine and I stared back, unconcerned, which only pissed him off more. “So you’ll abort the thing inside of you,” nice, ‘thing’, glad to know he was so paternal. “And then what? Pretend it didn’t happen? There are records, Dr. Taylor. Records of YOU requesting MY sperm. Records of YOU having a doctor inseminate you. Records of YOUR positive pregnancy test. How will you explain all that if it happens to come out?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t known precisely what he’d wanted, but I had to admit, he truly thought he had me. “Well, first of all, I would have the proof that MY request came through an outside IP address that I have NO access to. The tower The Seven uses as a residence doesn’t have WiFi that just anyone on the street can piggyback off of. As for MY request itself, it’s strange that that request came from that tower while I was here at work. With MY security clearance code.” I sat back, file forgotten as I spoke. Once I had the idea, the research was shockingly simple. “Now, the knee jerk reaction, if I hadn’t done an IP search first, would have been that I had a mole in my midst. Unfortunately for whichever cape wearing sour grape who decided to utilize my code, they didn’t think of doing a VPN which would have made it marginally more difficult to figure them out, I guess being invulnerable doesn’t make someone very smart.” His fists were clenching as I went on. “Let’s see, that deals with the request that I made. As for the doctor, well I’d dare anyone to link me to that doctor through any form of communication other than email, which by the way, I found. ‘drvtaylor@cia.net’? Really?” I scoffed at how idiotic I’d found his trail. “The receptionist that acted to divert me from my real appointment to the doctor’s clutches was more difficult, but she doesn’t really matter. In the end, I’m getting rid of something I never wanted or asked for, and if the superbeing that put everything in motion knows what’s good for their star spangled ass they’ll keep it as quiet as I plan on doing. Otherwise, all my fact finding goes as public as his fake tears and emotion.” 

“You think you’re incredibly clever, don’t you?” I raised an eyebrow, yes, of course I did. “If the good doctor was only there to inseminate you, then what was in the shot?” 

“What does that matter?” I asked, head tilted, refusing to show him any fear. “It could have been a placebo.”

Homelander was smirking and I felt a twist in my stomach. “Or,” he took a deep breath, seeming to savor having the upper hand for the first time in the meeting. “It could be a little Variation”. I heard the emphasis he put on the ‘V’. I knew Billy did too, and that meant I had to keep my head.

“Regardless,” I sounded, thankfully, unimpressed. “It doesn’t matter. Your spawn will be gone, and I’ll find out if you're bluffing or not afterward.” I prayed that Billy wouldn’t take the bait and give the asshole what he clearly wanted. 

“And then what?” Homelander’s hands came up under his chin like he was simply curious. “In love with a man who HATES supes, and you just might be one.” 

“I think we’re finished here.” I stood up, moving in front of Billy as he stood. My back to him, but acting as a shield between the two. “I’d see you out, but you clearly know the way.” 

Homelander sat for a beat, savoring what I imagined he felt was a minor victory. As he stood, he glanced around the office. “I do like what you’ve done with the place since the last time-” I felt Billy step forward, but held my ground between him and this pompous ass. “Of course, I’ve peeked here and there.” 

“About that,” I wanted to be sure he knew how much I’d pieced together about his peeping Tom bullshit. “You should know, if you try to use either of our security codes again, not only will they not work, but an alert will be sent out and well-” I smiled as he glared at me. “I’m fairly certain that Vought won’t be able to find a fix for breaking through CIA clearances.” 

He left, cape swishing behind him, and I shut my eyes and hung my head. What he said, taunted me with, what if-

“Veronica,” Billy’s hands were sliding down my arms, and for once I didn’t fear steaming. I was so frightened I could barely feel the warmth from his hands much less my own body. “Sweetheart, come here.” He turned me and tucked me into his body. Holding me while I tried to process this new, more disturbing development. “Listen to me, Ronnie,” his breath was fanning over the top of my head as I pressed my face into his chest. “Whatever we learn, I love you, do you hear me? I love you.” 

I knew he meant it. Now. But Billy Butcher had spent years hating supes. Years wanting nothing more than to see them all burn to the ground. How would he really look at me if, as Homelander mocked, I was one?


	30. And Down Will Come Baby, Cradle And All...

I didn’t go to my regular doctor for help with my tiny problem. Billy and I were in agreement that until I knew for sure that the doctor, nurse, and receptionist situation was a one time situation, a task I was planning on giving some attention to once I had my personal situation in hand, that I would go to a more private and less known clinic. Or at least a clinic no one would be able to associate with my normal habits.

I felt paranoid, as I made the appointment from home for the day after we had our showdown with Homelander. Yes, I lied to the pompous schmuck, wouldn’t you? Having no actual personal experience in what I was about to experience I did what I would normally do in similar circumstances. I researched what to expect. 

With Billy sitting next to me, I read about “medication abortions” and “aspiration abortions” to be certain that I knew what was coming and what was likely. I read about the two pill option, which was most likely to be what I was given, since the timeline was that I was around the very very early point of verifiable pregnancy. Still, since this was a supe induced pregnancy, I thought that the research on the more invasive version would be best, if for no other reason than I could be prepared in case.

Billy was mostly silent, reading along with me, his hand on my free one. As we read about the side effects, what to expect if the pills worked or if I had to have the more ‘hands on approach’ what my recovery would look like, his hand squeezed mine. Looking at his face to see him studying me with tight eyes, I tilted my head in question.

“Are you sure?” He nodded at the screen that was still alight with the mention of cramping, bleeding, and other discomfort I could expect should I not experience complications. “Ronnie, it sounds painful and-”

“Necessary,” I smiled at him. “A little discomfort for peace of mind that my body is mine. And yours, when you want it.” I winked, but his brow was still furrowed with concern. “Billy,” it was my turn to squeeze his hand. “This is what I want.” His eyes were still tight, with worry and something else. “What is it?”

“You’ll be in pain and I won’t be able to-” he took a deep breath through his nose. “Veronica, you’ll bleed. You’ll be in pain and I’ll be seeing you like that and KNOWING that it’s all that-”

Ah, Homelander and the cause of my situation would rear his ugly head. “Then, I should go ahead and distract you, shouldn’t I?” I turned and moved closer to him, moving my fingers up his bare arm. “That’s usually what helps when you’re feeling a little too,” leaning forward, I nipped at his neck and smiled when I felt him inhale in an entirely different manner. “Aggressive.” My tongue flicked out to touch his pulse and I was rewarded with one of those low deep growls that only Billy Butcher could make sound sexy to me. “Billy?” He hummed as my nose slid against his skin. “Let’s go steam up the bedroom windows.” 

Distracting Billy worked, for a moment. When we were coming down from the latest round of sauna sex sans sauna, I felt him sigh. His fingers were tracing the bumps that created my spine and his lips were on my forehead as I waited for him to speak.

“You won’t be able to do this,” his kiss on my forehead made me smile, “divert me, I mean, for at least a week after.” I tipped my head back to look up at him. “I love you and I want to be as close to you as possible, Ronnie, he’s managed to fuck that up too.” 

“No he hasn’t.” I moved up, sliding until I was hovering over him. “He hasn’t fucked anything up unless we let him, Billy. And as for diversions?” I nudged his nose with mine and teased his lips while holding myself just far enough so a kiss was possible, but not imminent. “It says we can’t put anything inside me there, didn’t say a word about putting anything in my mouth.” His hand was on the back of my head and pushing me down so he could at least put his mouth ON mine. Our kiss deepened, tasting one another and feeling the fire build again before I pulled away slightly. “Not quite what I meant, Billy.” My smile held when I breathed the next tease, one that I knew would help him with the other issue he would have with my alternative to the usual diversionary tactics. “And it only said we can’t INSERT things in that part of me, not that you can’t reciprocate-” that did it, I was under him and he was showing me all the very special ways he could divert me until and after my appointment.

Luckily, with the delicate nature of my problem, I was able to get into the clinic quickly. The next morning, bright and early and happily a Saturday, Billy and I drove up to a nondescript building and took a deep shared breath. Fingers entwined, he was beside me as I signed in and filled out the paperwork. He waited while I handed over and had returned to me my ID and insurance cards. When I was called back, he was at my side, fingers linked tight with mine while I answered the intake questions carefully and honestly. 

“Are you the father?” The doctor asked, eyes on our hands. 

“Does that matter?” Billy’s eyes were on the doctor, tense. 

She shook her head and smiled reassuringly at the very large and clearly stressed man seated beside me. “No, that doesn’t matter. It’s good to see that Dr. Taylor has support, she’ll need it.”

It was my turn to stare. Did I miss something in my research? “I don’t understand.”

Her smile redirected to me. “Women who come in asking for the termination of an unwanted pregnancy assume that the physical discomfort is the worst part of the experience. I won’t lie and say it’s not uncomfortable, but even a pregnancy that’s unwanted leaves an emotional mark. Having a support system in place,” her nod at Billy reminded me of my very large and substantial shadow, not that I could ever forget of him. “That’s going to make your recovery more bearable in so many ways.”

I nodded, certain that this ‘emotional mark’ was simply that Homelander would continue to breathe air. “There’s something you should know about the paternal side of the fetus-”

After explaining that I was carrying an unwanted supe fetus, the doctor recommended going the more invasive route. Since the procedure was more effective she felt it was better to start there rather than start subtly. If you could call inserting a medical device in one's nether regions to remove a tiny parasite from one's insides ‘subtle’. 

She gave me medication to “open my cervix” and sent us out to have a small meal or drinks or catch a movie. Another appointment a few hours later, since she wanted to take every precaution to be certain I had less strain than I was clearly under. 

Billy took me to the park, to walk around and take in the fresh air. His hand in mine, we took a long route around the edges, while he showed me the bench from the video he’d watched everyday after Mallory had given it to him. The video of Becca, the last image he’d had of her alive until he saw her in the compound where she raised Ryan. 

We walked away from it, and he pulled me closer. “When we get home,” I smiled at the ease with which he’d made my home his, the invitation never verbal but clearly implied that he move in with me taken without fanfare from either of us. “I plan on pampering you for the rest of today and then tomorrow,” my smile grew. “And if you still feel rotten on Monday, then we both call off and stay in bed, getting out only when absolutely necessary, love.” 

“You’re going to spoil me, Billy Butcher.” I pressed my face into the side of his coat and breathed in the scent of him. “I love you.”

“Oh, Ronnie,” I looked up to see him staring down at me with such adoration that my heart skipped. “I fucking love you so fucking much.” 

It helped, his reassurances, to get through the first part of the consequences of Homelander’s interference in my life. Back in the office, in an actual procedure room, with antibiotics and a mild pain medication working their magic, the doctor performed what she assured me was a simple procedure. Since I’d chosen the mild pain meds coupled with local anesthesia, I was wide awake while Billy held my hand and kept me sane as the doctor talked me through her work. It didn’t take long, and she seemed very certain she’d taken care of the issue, but she also reminded me, once Billy had helped me redress after the short recovery period, of the side effects. She told Billy what to watch for that could mean more worrisome complications that would require immediate medical intervention, and then made me a follow-up appointment because, while normally one wouldn’t be required, I was a ‘special case’. Yeah, thanks again caped wonderfuck. 

Padded beyond belief, since I hadn’t had the irritation of having an actual period in a long time it felt strange, Billy bundled me into the truck and headed home. He carried me inside, refusing to listen to my assurances that I could, in fact, walk. He asked if I’d rather lie on the sofa and settle in for an evening of mindless binge watching, or to bed, where I could rest. I chose the sofa, and he complied as easily as I imagined he would have if I’d said I fancied a trip to the moon. The man was fulfilling his promise of pampering me. 

We ordered in, he sat behind me, cushioning my back with his and helped me to the bathroom when I needed a change of padding. Billy was attentive and careful of me. He showed me as much tenderness as a glassblower showed their newest work, delicate and breakable, that’s how he handled me. The pain, and yes I had pain, wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t pleasant or a walk in the park either. 

I didn’t steam, not the rest of Saturday or all of Sunday, not as my body healed. By Monday, I felt well enough to go to work, and Billy was smiling at me like I’d made it through a minefield and came out with minimal damage. I smiled up at him as he helped me into my suit jacket, still sore, but not too bad to function. 

“You’re still ridiculous,” I muttered into his mouth as he kissed me before pulling on his own jacket. “And I don’t think I could love you more.” I offered as he pulled away to stare into my eyes. 

“That a challenge, Ronnie?” His dimples were peeking at me, and I shook my head. “Gonna have to see about that.” I bit my lip and let him lead me to his car. It was lower to the ground and made it easier to get in and out of for my current predicament. “Ready?” I nodded and once we were buckled in we went back to the office to get back to work and to move forward on our goal. With a new added focus on just how to bring Homelander right down to his fucking knees.


	31. Don't Toss the Bathwater Out With The Baby...Wait...

First day back after a trying weekend, I chose to work on the personal report that I wanted to compile to keep track of Homelander’s current misdeeds. Billy was still pecking away at the reports from meetings with supes that I barely recalled beside me. Between our steady typing, and the quiet conversations we had back and forth about what we wanted in each report (more, more, more details where Homelander was concerned, thorough, but less where the lesser known supes were concerned) the office was quieter than usual. 

I was typing in the doctor’s information when Billy asked me what I wanted for lunch. I squinted in thought and then asked for burgers from our favorite spot, but only if we could eat in the office. Standing meant I felt like I was wearing a diaper, and sitting kept that feeling at bay at least a tiny shred. 

“Anything for you, love.” He leaned over and kissed me before hitting the number on his phone and ordering our regular orders. After confirming he’d be picking them up, since they didn’t have delivery, he hung up and checked his messages. “MM tells me that they’ve had more confirmed dead whereabouts unknown.” I groaned. “Yeah, this V shit don’t seem worth it, does it?” 

I shook my head and kept working. Billy typed a response to MM and went back to his reports until he decided enough time had passed for the food to be ready without a wait. Another kiss and he was gone. 

I was lost in the work in front of me, ignoring the tugging cramps and the feeling of more blood leaving my body. I felt warm, too warm for the jacket I’d kept on when I arrived at the office. Tugging it off, a glance at my arm told me I still wasn’t steaming so I felt sure that the fetal tissue was the cause of my former embarrassing side effect. Blinking past a few dots that seemed to float into my vision, I stopped typing for a moment. Eye strain, I told myself, from staring at the laptop screen for hours now. Sitting back, I felt the cramping harder and fought against the worry building. The doctor said cramping was normal. That the bleeding was normal. And since I had a slightly more aggressive removal than normal, this all was normal. 

Thinking that my diaper might need changing, I stood and felt a wave of vertigo hit me so hard that I wondered if I was hungrier than I thought. Holding myself steady with both hands on my desk, I willed the dizziness away as I felt a gush run down my legs. Shit. Before I could move to sit back down, or grab the phone, the dizziness grew into a full blown faint and I hit the floor as the darkness descended.

Snippets. That’s what I heard. Pressure. That’s what I felt. But the weight of the darkness was overwhelming and I couldn’t, no matter how hard I fought, break free.

“Is it a complication?” Billy’s voice, I would know it anywhere, even from my grave or heaven. Wait, was I dead? I felt a pulling sensation. A tug and a yank. Did that negate the dead idea?  
“The test results, they don’t make sense.” A new voice, foreign to me, but concerned. That’s good, concerned meant that they were at least trying to help me break free, right?

I couldn’t really focus to keep track of time. The next time I heard Billy’s voice he was closer. “Ronnie, you gotta fight this, sweetheart, you gotta open those gorgeous fucking eyes of yours and tell me to calm my fucking tits, because I tell you what, I’m gonna go fucking ballistic on his fucking ass.” I tried, God did I try, to open my eyes and work my mouth to tell him to be smart, to not start a war until we had all our soldiers in line. 

The next voice was another strange one. It was telling someone that a variant was used and until they found the right one, who knew what would happen? That sounded shitty as fuck. Noises that I couldn’t place, more tugging and pulling, and then more nothing.

At some point, don’t ask me for particulars, I managed to blink my eyes open. The glare of the lights overhead, the steady sound of machines working to do God knew what, and the steady beep of a heart monitor. That seemed like a good sign, the steadiness of the sound. I couldn’t move, since I was hooked up to so much hardware that I wasn’t entirely sure where it ended and I began.

“You’re awake,” I tried to smile at the sound of his voice, but I wasn’t sure I managed, I felt so wrong. Then his face was above me and my breath caught, causing that steady beep to hiccup. “Calm down, Ronnie,” his smile played on his lips and I knew he was touching my cheek even if I couldn’t feel it. “Scared the fucking daylights out of me, becoming a habit, love.” 

I sighed, but couldn’t think of what to say. What could I say? I had a million questions and I wanted to assure him I was fine, but was I? I couldn’t move, I couldn’t feel his hand on my face. What did that mean?

“They got you full of numbing shit,” he offered, his eyes tight. “Got to keep you still while they work on-” he stopped and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Not supposed to boggle you down with all that, Veronica.” I think my mouth opened, it must have because he shushed me before I could try to make a noise. “Your only job is to lay here and let the good doctors work. I love you, and-” he looked to the side, where I felt like someone was waiting, but I couldn’t see them. “Yeah, I know.” His eyes were on me again. “You’re gonna go under again, love, best to keep you as-” I felt the tug off something pulling me away from him, my eyes heavy again, I missed whatever he said after, because the darkness covered me again.

The next time I heard anything it was a familiar if strange in the circumstances. “Dr. Taylor is extremely important, do you understand that?” A murmured affirmative came through over the ever constant beeping and machine noise that seemed as familiar as the voice. Mallory kept going, telling whomever she was speaking to that she wanted hourly reports on my progress, that she wanted to know how far they’d gotten and how much further they needed to go. Then the darkness pressed down again and I lost the world.

Blinking awake, who knew how long after the Monday that I spectacularly passed out, I heard Billy’s voice but it wasn’t next to me. And it sounded oddly confident and professional. Dear God, I was fucking dead! I looked up at the television that hung close to the bed, for who’s enjoyment I didn’t fucking know, but there he was. Wearing a plain white button down shirt, smirk nowhere to be found, he was speaking calmly to what I imagined was a bank of cameras and news reporters. 

“The Office of Supe Affairs would like to confirm that one of our own, our head actually, is currently in an undisclosed medical center being treated for an attack by an as now unnamed superhuman being. Dr. Veronica Taylor, after being treated for the first attack, a violation that no woman should ever have the misfortune to experience, had complications brought about because of a second attack that was perpetuated by this suspect.” I was impressed, he hadn’t said ‘fuck’ once. And not a ‘twat’ or ‘cunt’ to be had. “This case is open and I will remind everyone that it is an attack on the very foundation of what created this office. A supe that will not play by the rules is a supe that will be punished to the fullest extent-” The television clicked off and I blinked.

“He sounds impressive doesn’t he?” Mallory moved closer and smiled down at me. “Billy hated that I asked him to do that. But he did it after I told him that it would piss Homelander off so badly that he’d make another mistake, a bigger one.” I wanted to speak but my mouth was so dry that I couldn’t swallow. “Allow me.” She grabbed a plastic pitcher and poured some water into a cup and added a bendy straw. “Take it slow, even with the feeding tube and the intravenous fluids, you still haven’t had anything for days.” I tilted my head to show her I understood and she placed the straw on my lips. 

Taking careful, small sips, I waited until I knew I had enough moisture to speak. I swallowed carefully and took a breath. “Where am I?” I’d heard Billy’s comment about an ‘undisclosed location’ and was curious. 

“A private Vought lab.” I nodded, happy that I had some movement. “Whatever it was that Homelander had that doctor give you, it wasn’t normal Compound V.” My eyes widened, but the conversation about ‘variants’ made more sense now. “They have access to the variations of the compound and could work on an antidote.” Another nod from me and she held the straw to my lips again.

Once I was sufficiently moist again, I cleared my throat. “And have they? Have they found an antidote?” Mallory sighed and I felt a twist of fear. 

“The machine you hear, the one that’s driving me mad with the constant noise?” I smirked. “You’re being given constant dialysis for now. Ronnie, they’re cleaning your blood repeatedly while they try to figure out which ‘variant’ he chose.” I sighed. “Progress has been made, but you’re not in the clear yet.” 

“She’s awake,” Billy’s voice was hushed, but then he was beside Mallory and his eyes were twinkling. “There you are, beautiful.” When his fingers brushed against my cheek this time, I felt it, the warmth of him. “I missed the color of your eyes, Ronnie.” He leaned over the side of the bed and kissed my forehead. “Til they remove that fucking tube, I think I’ll leave your mouth alone.” My hand raised, and I was happy with the ability to move, touching my nose I sighed again. “It’s necessary, love, keeps you fed.” 

Mallory said her goodbyes, telling us both she’d be in touch. “She was giving me the bare bones.” I offered, as Billy pulled up a chair and took a seat so he could hold my hand through the grated bed guard. “Saw part of your press conference, Mr. Butcher.” I bit my lip as his dimples came out beside his smirk. “I’m impressed, and to be honest, that shirt you were wearing?” He’d changed back into the printed shirt I was used to seeing him in. “I think if you wear that, I’ll be more inclined to wear that dress you want on me so badly.” 

“Deal.” He kissed my knuckles. “Bare bones? What’d she tell you?” I filled him in on the minimal information she gave me. He nodded, and I watched as he worked on ordering his thoughts. “From what the quacks are telling us,” I shook my head. “When we evicted wee Homelander spawn from your innards, we took away the stabilizing agent that held the side effects of whatever shit he had that fucking imbecile shoot you up with.” The steaming? I was trying to make sense of it. “When you steamed, it was based on how you were feeling, right?” I nodded, still trying to figure it out. “‘Parently, the little genetic invader was acting as a stunting mechanism. We dug it out, your body tried to heal, and instead it unleashed the shit that the nugget was holding in check. The bleeding alone was enough to scare everyone, Ronnie, but the temperature? Inside and out, it was like you were going nuclear.” Shit. “Took a bit of talking to me to get me to agree to allow these twats near you, but they seem to know at least a little worth knowing.” He shook his head, his eyes looking haunted. “Found you in that puddle of fucking blood and-”

“Told you not until I’m sick of you, Billy Butcher.” I offered, trying to smile, but fuck was it hard. “So how long have I been here and how long do I have to stay?” 

The truth was I had been in the care of Vought for over a week. As for how long I had to stay? That was tougher to gauge. The doctors and scientists were working their asses off, but even with the intel that I’d gathered, they had their work cut out for them. Apparently, and this was completely confidence instilling, there were so many variations of failed Compound V formulas, forever tweaking the mix they might have lost count, that narrowing down which one Homelander had pocketed was next to impossible. And so, they continued to churn my blood in and out of my body, trying to keep the formula from regenerating, telling me that my levels looked good, but for now leaving was out of the question.

Dr. Veronica Taylor, ladies and gentlemen, newly diagnosed guinea pig.


	32. Reality Bites...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This went way off the rails from fun and flirty to very dark and I apologize for where my twisted and terrible brain takes things. I will give you hope, however, because this isn't the end, or close to it. Nothing is fixed in stone, and I don't want you to give up on the story YET. Pretty please?

Life as a human guinea pig is a strange thing. First of all, there’s the questions. The same questions over and over, to the point where the machines and medical doodads and the noise that became almost normal for me, but the questions became the irritant of the day. 

“How are you feeling today, Dr. Taylor?” As I’d squint into the bright light being forced into my marrow it seemed. A muttered reply from me, and honestly the same answer in varying degrees of annoyance or acceptance depending upon the day and how many times I’d been asked it so far. “Uh huh, and are you feeling warm? Is there tenderness in your abdomen?” While they poked and prodded, testing skin, muscle, bone and eventually blood. 

Did you know the average human adult has around 1.2-1.5 gallons of blood which equals roughly 10 units? I know this because I wanted to be certain that I’d have enough after all the blood testing. Research would either be the way I kept sane or what finally pushed me over the ledge into complete madness, mark my words. 

Billy visited, as often as he could, and every single time he’d greet the head poker in residence with his own version of the repeated question game. “How is she? What’s the bloody progress?” At which I would inevitably check the arm that seemed to be their favorite vessel for bloodletting. “How much longer?” And then he’d meet my gaze and focus his attention on ME, rather than on my medical condition. 

Yes, I was calling it a condition. If I let the reality of my situation fully grip me, then I’d scream. And I had moments of it, trust me. 

How would you feel if every single time the man you loved walked in and spoke about your person as though you were a petri dish experiment before reminding himself, through sheer force of finally SEEING you, that you were in fact the woman he loved? 

Now take that feeling you just got from that scenario and add the annoyingly taunting voice of the caped asshole who caused this whole fucking irritating bullshit situation reminding you that you fell in love with a man for whom hatred of supes is as natural as inhaling. Feeling just a hint of discomfort? Just add the sound of beeping, buzzing, and dripping to remind yourself of the fact that this was all happening while I was being held hostage as a “let’s see what happens if we try this mixture to counteract the demon juice flowing through her veins” was tried over and over.

Strained. My nerves, body, and brain felt strained. Even after the feeding tube was gone and Billy could kiss me. Even after I was given the go ahead to work from my hospital bed. Frayed would be a kind way to say how absolutely on edge I felt. 

And the worse part? I felt like I was missing something. Something important. Something paramount. Just out of reach and as though, even surrounded by my laptop and notes, something that was keeping me out of an important loop.

The longer that I stayed in the ‘undisclosed medical’ location, the more that I wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Literally anywhere. I started to yearn for Bolivia and the Black Ops team that had gotten caught up in the web of a rogue agent and ‘died’ implicated in a massive fuck up of epic proportions.

When a rational woman who knows how the inner workings of other people’s brains and behavior follow reliable patterns starts thinking fondly of the heat of a tropical place where she had to wade through more red tape than most people would assume humanly possible to unravel the truth, all while hearing the type of rumors about the men she was trying to clear and resurrect from faked death, then shit has hit epic levels of horrible. It did remind me to contact that team to see how their return to their former lives had worked out, and wonder if their leader had gotten over his own tragic ability to attract murderous women. 

I wanted to go further than the small courtyard deemed safe enough for me to explore, and near enough to make them taking me off the dialysis machine after another fun round of ‘clean her blood again’ reasonable. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and watch television at my discretion without interruptions for another round of the questions and poking I wanted, in short, to be back to normal already.

I might have been empathizing with Billy’s urge for the Vought wankers (his word, I swear) to find the magic solution so life could go back to the routine we both wanted a return to. Or I might have been trying to only see the positive outcome, since there was a creeping feeling that maybe, just maybe there wasn’t an easy fix or a fix at all.

A month passed, with my cabin fever slowly increasing by the day, and with it my internal and external temperatures. Oh yeah, that’s right, I might have forgotten to mention that while the steaming was at bay, now it was just my actual body temperature that would fluctuate and freak every single fucking person all the way out. When Billy said I nearly went “nuclear” he hadn’t been joking, apparently I could have fucking exploded like a goddamn human time bomb and I didn’t want to consider just how fucking messy that would have been for the janitorial staff.

Finally, maybe because I wanted some type of control about the questioning, I started asking some probing ones of my own. And what I found, when they would meet my eyes and answer me as fully as I wanted, was that that creeping feeling was growing more likely. 

The issue wasn’t simply that they didn’t know which variation of Compound V that Homelander had me infected with, it was that as they broke down the components and addressed each one, my body didn’t simply fight their attempts, it attacked itself. The asshole, it would appear, had basically chosen the self destruct version, and it was trickier than any puzzle these ‘real doctors’ had ever come across. I was truly feeling the confidence of having a toddler performing my brain surgery with this knowledge. 

Oh and that wasn’t all, even IF they figured out how to ‘neutralize’ the formula inside of my bloodstrain, then there was a probability that I could pass it on to any future children. Isn’t that some kind of amazingly poetic bullshit to hear after you chose to evict a foreign invader from your uterus? That the one stabilizing agent I’d had scraped and dumped was the ONLY one that I would ever get to actually be allowed to experience. Remind me to send Homelander a HUGE fucking thank you card, would you?

Early into my first true consciousness, before I found out just how fucked the pompous dick had made my entire existence, Billy had told me that my parents had visited while I was knocked out. Apparently near death experiences make even the weirdest of families reunite. And mine was no different. 

Mom became a regular visitor and I was shocked by how much I started looking forward to her visits. She was strangely comforting, and tried to keep my spirits up, she even made peace with Billy. Dad was less frequent in his contact, but Mom told me it was difficult for him to see me look like a shell of myself. 

And I did. I looked like a ghost that's haunting what was left of my body. The feeding tube had kept me nourished, but my muscle mass had suffered from the amount of time I was forced to spend in bed. I was constantly tired, my work hours going from nine to six to an hour here, a few minutes there, and the amount of napping I did would make most house cats jealous. The gowns that I wore hung from my frame, my appetite was scarce and I felt like this was the LONGEST goodbye letter ever to be written. 

As the days passed, one merging into the next without me taking stock of how much I missed, how much that puzzle of what I was missing had bothered me early on, the negative ideas started creeping in. Homelander’s voice grew louder. His smug question about Billy and me and what my condition would mean for the two of us in the end kept pushing through my attempts to distract myself. 

I was sitting in the soft chair they’d brought in for me by the window, staring out and thinking of my options when Billy came in for his visit. I heard him, in the background noise of beeps and whirls, ask his questions. I felt him when he was nearer to me, but my eyes stayed on the ‘view’. 

He started to greet me, but my mouth opened and the question came out without me thinking about it. “How will you do it?” I watched a leaf, one missed by the obsessive groundskeepers, dance in a breeze I wish I could feel. He was confused, his reflection showed that much. “When you kill me, how will you do it?” 

“Veronica,” I could hear the pain in his voice, the fear hiding behind it. “I wouldn’t-”

“Frenchie then?” I tilted my head considering. “MM? Hughie barely managed to make the choice with-” I stopped and took a breath. “Kimiko?” I sighed and pulled my legs up onto the chair, hugging my knees. “I hear she makes quite a mess of her prey.” My voice wasn’t loud and it didn’t sound anything more than resigned, and I was a little curious. “If you can get Starlight to do it, you could make it seem like self defense? Or,” I sighed, and bit my lip, “it would finally give you a reason to take her out too.” 

“Ronnie, love, that’s not gonna-” I turned and he flinched when he saw that I was serious and not the least bit upset. “Ronnie?”

“Billy Butcher, I wrote the book on you.” My smile felt wrong to me, but right at the same time. “I know you inside and out, or at least I think I do.” I had the research on the flash drive that was hooked into my laptop on the bed. “You are single minded in your focus and your focus has been on eliminating supes from the world for a very long time.” I turned back to the window, staring past the view and at the reflection of the room behind me. “It was one of the things I found the most attractive about you, I think. That you could see a goal and pound away until you master it.” He sat in the chair close to me, but at a distance far enough that he’d have to work to touch me. “So, how will I die, Billy?” 

“You’ll die safe and sound, of old age in our bed, Veronica.” I smiled sadly at this pipe dream of a fairy tale he wanted so badly to believe. “When you’re sick of me, remember?” I could hear how badly he wanted it to be true, how much he wanted to hold me and it to all be a terrible dream. 

“Never took you for a nursery rhyme and fairy stories fan,” my eyes were still on the window. “This isn’t going away, Billy, what he put in me isn’t going away. And you will start to look at me like you look at him.” My eyes found his, and face to face I wanted to force him to see it. “You will. And then, just like you, Frenchie, and Hughie brainstormed about Translucent and the best way to end him, you’ll start to consider my pressure points.” I gave a harsh, humorless chuckle. “And the funniest part is that Homelander built mine in for you, all you have to do is take me off the blood cleanse for a day and my own body will do it for you.” His eyes tightened at the reminder of how many close calls I’d had. “Oops, I guess I just planned it for you.” 

“Please don’t.” He was begging me to let him pretend it wasn’t the truth, that he wouldn’t lose me too, and because of the same supe as Becca’s cause of death. “Don’t do this.”

I smiled sadly, knowing he knew, even without me telling him, what was going to happen next.


	33. Constantly Surprising Me...And It Might Be Contagious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, ugh, I hate it too. But it had to be done, at least for awhile, now for something more along the lines of where this story started, shall we? 
> 
> Thank you guys for sticking it out, even if it did get a little dark and blah for a bit...I'm not saying everything is gonna be rainbows and butterflies forever, but that part had to happen to get to the rest...

I talked my options over with the medical professionals that seemed to come and go like waves. The bulking machine that was being used to clean my blood of the impurity of whatever variation was added to me without my permission wasn’t something I planned on installing in my house, or any home I ended up in. Since my specialty wasn’t in physical medicine, I asked, hoping against hope that there was a portable option. One that would allow me to have a life, maybe not the one I’d gotten used to, but one that I could settle into and live a life that was my own, at least until the inevitable.

Billy had gone, once he realized that I was certain of the outcome and of my answer to it. It hurt worse to see the pain on his face, than it did to know that I was right about what I told him. To see how hard he took the idea that I knew how he felt about supes, regardless of their origin, wasn’t something I took pleasure in. I wished- No, I couldn’t do that, dwell on what could have been. 

Instead, I spoke to the doctors and lab rats. How could I get back to the real world, but keep the possible fallout of my new additions at bay? They tossed out ideas, having tried a few times to see how long I could go without my blood being cleansed on a constant loop. The longest, and it was touch and go, was twenty-four hours. Then the fever hit hard and fast, the vertigo came rushing over me, and the spots in my vision made me almost wish for blindness. I even began bleeding again, but not from the same place that erupted in my former office. Knowing this particular weakness, and the possibility that it wouldn’t end well for me or anyone near me, they discussed it for days and then came back with an option, but one I would have to test in the clinic first. 

There were two forms of more portable, so to speak, dialysis. Both meant that I would have to learn to be hands on, literally, in my own treatment and both used my own body as part of it. They warned that given how my body reacted to attempts to neutralize the foreign agent that had been introduced either could be a long shot. After all, one of them reminded me, my own body seemed focused on destroying itself. 

Both utilized a catheter, much like one that I already had, but while one necessitated me using gravity to push a fluid that would do basically the same work as the huge machine that I was rarely allowed a break from, the other was a machine version, smaller but same principal. Both were contingent on my participation and both required me being on a strict schedule, stricter than a usual patient of either form.

I agreed to try both, but there was another issue. Even with the pull of being home, they wanted me to understand that I’d still need to come into one of the Vought labs for treatment. The goal remained to neutralize if not remove the dangerous mixture from me, and that wouldn’t change when I left. Telling them I understood had two doctors exchanging a look which I asked about.

“Do you know how far this clinic is from your home?” I shook my head, feeling a wave of nerves. When they told me I nearly fell over to cry, too far of a commute, especially if I had to keep the blood cleanse going on such a strict schedule. “It’s the closest, but there is another option.” They told me about a community, NOT the same as where Becca had raised Ryan, but an actual regular community that happened to be close. I nodded, it was another thing to consider. “Let’s do this a step at a time. We’ll schedule a test for each of the portable dialysis options, then we’ll discuss the next step if it’s something viable.” Another nod from me and they offered one more thing to think about, “there are medical detection dogs, with the signs that occur before you become less stable, that might me something we’ll have to discuss further as well.” 

With food for thought, I sat down with a book instead of my laptop. While I tried to get comfortable and push the idea that I was planning on leaving the care of round the clock health professionals and worse turn my back on everything I’d worked so hard for, it wasn’t nearly as simple as when Sherlock Holmes worked through a mystery. 

What would anyone else do if they were sure that they were looking at limited time, not only because of a condition that didn’t seem to be fixable, but because they weren’t completely sure that they could trust the person they loved to NOT help the end along?

Billy came back the next day, and I felt my heart skip a beat when he ignored the doctors and rushed to me to kiss me completely senseless. “You listen to me, Veronica Taylor,” his breath was hot against my damp lips. “I fucking love you and I could give a shit what’s swimming around in your fucking bloodstream. I could give a fuck if you develop laser eyes and can lift my fucking car with your pinkie.” I swallowed at how fierce he sounded. “I told you before, Ronnie, I CAN’T lose you and I fucking won’t.” And then his lips met mine again, and instead of the hot hunger he started with, this time it was such a slow sweet kiss that I felt like my heart stopped, and when the beeping of the machine took a pause I realized it had, but then the beep returned, strong and steady, just like Billy fucking Butcher.

He held me, fully clothed of course, in my hospital bed and we talked about the options I’d discussed with the doctors. He listened, his fingers idly stroking my arms while his arms were cradling me to his chest. 

“I want to be here when you try it,” I started to remind him of work, but he shushed me. “If one works, Ronnie, I want to know how to do it too, that way I can pick up the slack and it won’t all be on you.” I smiled, feeling a peace that hadn’t come for too long. “And a dog?” I nodded and could tell he was excited, since he had his own dog out there somewhere. “What kind?”

We got my laptop out, and unlike the hopelessness I’d given in to the day before, we searched the internet for more information on dogs who were medically trained to detect chronic illness symptoms, nipping the likelihood of further trauma or worse case scenario in the bud with their ability to alert patient or caretaker to a problem before it got out of hand. 

“They’re a bit bigger than Terror,” his dog, I remembered him telling me about him. His lips pressed against my temple as he reached down and used the touchpad to scroll down. “If they can help me keep you healthy, Ronnie, I think we should put in a request.” I smiled, his fingers hitting the contact button on the site we’d found for a group closeby. “Give ‘em a bit of time to make sure they can train it up for your particular needs.” 

I put in the information requested and hit send, while reminding Billy that it was all contingent on the treatment from home option working. And he smiled and turned me carefully so our faces were close enough for our noses to touch. 

“You are one of the strongest women I’ve EVER met, Veronica,” his hands cupped my face so carefully that I felt more fragile than the thinnest glass. “If anyone can make this work, it’s you.” 

The doctors scheduled my next experiment with Billy’s request to be present in mind. Over the weekend, with a cot in my room just for the man who kept surprising me to use while he both learned along with me and watched me like a hawk to be sure I was alright, we began. I held his hand while they walked us through the first option. The non-machine one, since it was the lowest tech version, and smiled when I saw how intensely he was watching them walk us through the steps. 

“The three step process,” our instructor explained, “ takes around thirty to thirty-five minutes total and you’ll have to do it throughout the day. If this option is viable for you, then you’ll also have to wake up to perform it, or it can be paired with the second treatment. How long between treatments will be something we have to work on as well, but first let’s see if it works?” 

Billy stopped the doctor before we could get started by asking questions I forgot or missed in my yearning to go home. How would the supplies need to be kept? What were the worst case scenarios if something went wrong while we were home? How long did he have to get me help if the treatment stopped working? Would it be more dangerous for me, to my health, to do this rather than keep coming in for the treatment that I was doing now? 

Once his concerns were addressed, in complete detail, the doctor then took me off the whirling machine that I only had minimal breaks from, telling me that unlike someone on dialysis for kidney issues or failure, since mine was simply to circulate and cleanse the blood to keep the foreign bodies at bay and ineffective, that made my complete focus necessary. He didn’t just mean that he wanted to me to learn the steps, he meant that I had to focus on precisely how my body felt. All those questions I hated to answer daily? Those were my gauge for how I was supposed to determine if the treatment was working or not. Whether I felt my temperature going up, the spots returned to my vision, or the vertigo hit me at the wrong moment, it would be up to me to know whether this was still working or not. And it was paramount, given how my body could go supernova and kill not just myself, but who knew how many others, since the range of my area of destruction couldn’t be measured without it happening.

Taking a deep breath and nodding, we got to take a break before the first round of my possible path to escaping the room I’d spent far more time in than I cared to think about. While we waited, Billy asked me if I thought my mom should learn how to perform the treatment too, and like she’d been conjured, she was in the doorway smiling at the two of us.

“You’re not hooked up to that dreadful machine,” her eyes widened with hope, but I shook my head causing her smile to drop and fear to replace her joy. “It’s not-”

Billy told her to take a seat and explained that I hadn’t been cured, but that we were trying something new to see if I could go home. He didn’t mention, and neither did I, that home might be further from the city, and closer to the clinic. One thing at a time.

“Of course I want to learn,” she set her purse down and folded her hands in her lap before she seemed to remember something. “Your father is parking the car,” she sighed, knowing that it was already hard for him to see me sick, but she took a deep breath and straightened her spine and I knew she was about to assert her will. “He should learn too, just in case.”

“And what am I learning, precisely?” My father walked into the room and this time, instead of Billy, Mom explained what was coming. 

My parents and Billy watched as the doctor, hours later when I felt the first twinge that my body was rebelling against me, walked me through the first trial. The bag of fluid, the connection to the accessory that Billy’s agreement during my unconsciousness had given me, and the power of gravity while my family watched and took notes, both mental and physical. 

The first trial, actually walking me through it and showing me how to hold the bag up and wait while it utilized gravity to work its medical magic, took longer than it would if it became the option that I’d use at home the doctor promised.

“First time is always longer,” she smiled, reassuring me as the fluid dripped into me. “We chose the lighter, more flexible catheter hoping it wouldn’t be permanent, which makes this transition easier.” My mom and dad asked their own questions, knowing that Billy wouldn’t be available constantly, even if he wanted to since I would push him back to work. As the doctor answered, showing them step by step again, while Billy took the bag from my hand to give my arm a rest.

“You’re doing great, Ronnie,” he whispered, giving me a soft kiss. “Just think, this could be our new foreplay.” He was teasing and I knew it. 

“Gotta say, Butcher, this is a very fucked up way to get me wet.” I winked at him as he chuckled quietly. “I love you, and I’m sorry about-”

“Nothing to be sorry for, love.” Our eyes met and everyone heard the change in my heart rhythm. We ignored the soft laughter of our audience, so focused on our little bubble. “You wrote the book on me, Ronnie, but you missed a chapter.” I raised my eyebrow, knowing I was wrong, so wrong about his love for me, but I was curious as to what I’d missed. “You missed the part where I am single fucking minded in my love for you. Not a moment goes by that I want whatever that caped cunt forced into your body purged, but never a thought of destroying YOU or your body.” He sounded as fierce as I knew he was and I felt far more confident in him and us. “Until you get sick of me.” 

“Never,” I promised, and we kissed again, less soft and sweet and more hungry that we’d allowed ourselves since I woke up from the first hit of the second phase of Homelander’s interference. 

It turned out, after two weekends of further trial and error, that I would be doing a combined effort with peritoneal dialysis. Both the manual and the machine, and as an added bonus I’d get to make at least two trips to the clinic a week for further testing and at least one date with my favorite machine. My parents had come to every single training exercise, shocking me with their commitment to keeping me healthy and when Billy and I, more certain that going home was possible told them that we’d have to move, they took that in stride as well.

“I can hire movers and have them pack up the house,” Mom offered, knowing that Billy would rather be at my side than dealing with those details. “And, if you’d like, I could take a look at that community they told you about-”

The uncertainty in her voice made me realize how much our relationship had changed. Before, she would have gone and chosen the house, put the down payment down and had the paperwork ready before I’d fully made the choice to move. Now she was asking permission. Wow. 

“What if we went together?” I think I surprised her as much as she did me. “The doctors have been talking to me about more trials, shorter but to make sure that I can handle it on my own, why not a trip out to have a look? It would make me feel more productive-” I sighed, and Billy’s fingers linked with mine. 

“You are productive,” his lips were against my temple in the soothing gesture that he knew helped me the most. “Told you that the others have nearly cleared the list of unknowns. Done more sit downs with supes than I ever wanted to contend with, and you were there virtually for most of them.” 

I’d started, once I was feeling more hopeful about getting released back to some normalcy, joining Billy during his meetings with supes via video chat. While the supes didn’t see me, I didn’t feel up to fixing myself up to that point while wearing my attractive nightgowns, Billy could and I kept him even keeled and soothed the more frazzled nerves of some of those supes that hadn’t wanted to be found. And I’d gone back to researching both Homelander’s misdeeds, and the mysterious head popper’s true identity.

“Of course you are,” my dad kicked in. “You’re still the head of that office, Veronica, this is all just a little hiccup.” His reassurance was welcome and just as shocking as my mom’s uncertainty in helping us relocate. Who knew it would take the possibility of dying to bring us all together?


	34. How Far Up Is Too High?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously guys, did I lose you? Have you run away and decided that I'm a terrible no good very bad... 
> 
> Just kidding. I hope you all know that while angst gotta angst, eventually it'll all end up roses, or mostly roses. Look my kid told me how the comics end and I said "Fuck that bullshit" if that helps.

The logistics of letting a human guinea pig out for a day wasn’t nearly as difficult as I imagined. The hard part was convincing the man I adored to believe that my mom and I were more than capable of going house hunting while manning a cellphone armed with alarms set for each of my manual dialysis scheduled without getting distracted by shiny things.

“Billy,” I was doing a bang up job of NOT rolling my eyes during this, the fourth attempt to convince him that he was better off at work, “you need to type up those reports, and Mom and I BOTH have the alarms set, PLUS she had Dad have the car company add it into their online system just in case. And I KNOW for a fact that the doctors here are planning on calling to make sure I don’t forget, and you’ll probably check in during the day too.” I was trying to smile. I really was, but honestly. “I’m not writing the reports again.” There it was, the gauntlet. Tossed at his feet.

Billy’s lips quirked in a way that said he wanted to argue, but knew he couldn’t. Not without looking like he was shirking work. “Fine, but I plan on calling every-”

“Single time I’m due for a treatment,” I finished for him, leaning in to kiss him deeply. “I don’t doubt it for a moment.” I winked at him when I broke the kiss. “Still overprotective and ridiculous.”

“Still fucking proud of it,” he nudged my nose with his and dipped in for another kiss, arms around my lower back, holding me lightly since I was hooked up to the regular machine still. My heart rate monitor skipped a few beeps, but no one came running because that was a common occurrence with Billy around. “Gonna at least send me photos of our new house?” I smiled up at him, loving the fact that he was being more agreeable with the entire idea of it all.

“I plan on sharing videos of the ones that look promising so we can go back and look again together, Mr. Butcher.” I bit my lip when his eyes widened. “What?”

“You want me to go with you, again?” I nodded, and his smile lit up his face, making him go from slightly frightening bear of a man to breathtaking saint who may make a girl’s panties ignite.

“How can we make a final decision if you don’t see them yourself?” I tilted my head to study him, thinking that I wanted to see him smile more, all the time if possible.

“Veronica Taylor, and you say I surprise you,” he shook his head and moved one hand so he was holding my cheek. “You’re a marvel.”

“Our house, Billy. You said it, OURS.” I smiled up at him.

Funny little thing about a dialysis catheter, no matter if it’s ‘temporary’ or not, finding something to wear while leaving it somewhat available isn’t the easiest of tasks. Luckily, my mom, with MY key, was up to the challenge. She came back with more than one option, knowing that I liked to make my own choices. She also thought it smart to stick to flats, for which I wanted to and acted on the urge to hug her.

“Ronnie, calm down.” I was grinning when I pulled back and she rolled her eyes. “What? It’s not a terrible nickname.” My mother had HATED nicknames when I was little, it’s why I’d never really had one until Billy gave me one. And here she was using it.

She took a seat while I changed, the doctor had removed my lead from the machine moments after Mom arrived. A duffle filled with the necessary equipment was taken to her car waiting by the curb, while she was in my room with me in case I ran into trouble getting dressed in real clothing for the first time in forever.

I’d gotten a shower the night before. Billy had helped, much to the nurses’ amusement, and I even managed to get clean. Inside and out. So my hair was nice and smooth, my skin had a rosy glow, and I could ALMOST forget that I wasn’t leaving for good. Soon, I promised myself, as I slipped my feet into my shoes, soon.

The realtor Mom had chosen was a friend of one of Dad’s clients. She met us at the entrance of the gated community and we followed her through to the first of five houses available in this area, but she had another four nearby if we weren’t excited by what we saw.

As Mom drove through the neighborhood, I was surprised when she made a dismissive sniffing noise. Turning toward her, she glanced at me and smiled. “It’s just, this isn’t really YOU, Ronnie.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Took her long enough, but hot damn, I think my mom was finally figuring out just who the fuck I was.

“I’m trying to keep an open mind, Mom.” I muttered, managing through sheer will to not crack up laughing. We pulled into the first driveway, behind the very perky agent and I got out my phone as Mom kept hers at the ready for the alarm.

Mom was right, of course we both knew she would be once we drove through the gates and were surrounded by McMansions. Luckily, the agent, after waiting while I dosed myself during a video chat with Billy, took us to the other offerings nearby and further from other houses. Billy, typing while chatting through our tours, and my treatments (which Mom helped with on the third and fourth goes), helped me narrow the second trips to three houses. The agent, with the patient of a saint or a woman who saw a sale coming, smiled and confirmed that she’d keep an opening the following afternoon, since Billy refused to wait longer. Single minded, remember? And one more treatment, lunch at Mom’s insistence, and I was back at the clinic before Billy finished his own work day.

Billy came to see me after work, because even with a running commentary throughout the morning, and even with a day planned for the following day, he couldn’t stay away. I shook my head when I looked up from my laptop where I’d been going over his reports. Editing out a few of his sentence enhancers before sending them in, I smiled as he took the chair across from me.

“Ronnie,” glancing up, I saw that he looked like a cat who ate a canary and sat back. “How are you feeling, love?” I raised an eyebrow, feeling suspicious of whatever had Billy looking like He solved the hardest riddle in the world. Wait.

“You did it?” He stared at me. “You found a way to get Homelander caught and tried and maybe publicly executed.” OK that last part might have been revenge porn on my part, but could you blame me?

His smugness dropped and he shook his head. “No. I haven’t pinned the Caped Cunt to the wall, yet.” Damn it. I felt a frown form, but then the doctors came in smiling and asked if he’d told me. Wait. What? “Not yet, she tried to guess, but-”

“Ah,” the head quack was still grinning and he gestured for me to get back on the bed. Shrugging I did as I was asked. “Well, Dr. Taylor, we have amazingly good news.” Yeah, sure, I thought. Like the time you had great news about the green jello. “We finally managed to isolate it.” It? I must have looked as stupid as I felt because he continued and explained. “The variation that you were given, we isolated it. The traits were completely muddled because the person who introduced them to your system mixed TWO variations.” WHAT?! “After all the testing, one of our interns chose to think outside the box, so to speak, and asked a question that we hadn’t.”

I was laying down as one of the other doctors approached and took a moment to check the lead that would normally hook into the dialysis machine, but hadn’t, since we’d planned on trying out the night machine that I’d be switching to eventually anyway. Another tech had three syringes filled with God only knew what, but the doctor was explaining to me, and Billy that once the intern had realized that they’d only looked at single variations and NOT coupled or tripled ones, they started testing those combinations. The antidote, they hoped, was in the three needles that they were about to inject into my catheter.

Billy stopped them. Always vigilant and careful, he had questions, which I was thankful for because my brain was still playing catch up. While he’d been smug and excited when he came in, he was also cautious. He wanted them to make me understand why they were sure they figured it out, and as they explained more fully, I watched Billy and it dawned on me. He thought I’d gone quiet and stupid because of my slip into madness and fear that he’d kill me. Jesus.

“Guys?” The doctors were on a roll and clearly enjoyed the sound of their own voices and their own intelligence, but I repeated my call for a moment. “I get it. You figured it out. Could you shoot it in and get me out of here already?” Shit, enough. Billy’s eyes were on mine, but I rolled mine. “Overprotective and ridiculous.” I muttered, as the first injection was given.

Discharge wasn’t immediate. I mean, I’d nearly gone thermonuclear before. I’d have to stay for observation and I told Billy we still had to go to the appointment with the realtor anyway, who knew, maybe he’d love one of the houses more than the one we lived in currently and it would be truly OURS. Since the necessity for a machine was moot, or at least mootable, we squeezed together on my bed, refusing to spend the first night of what could be our future without fear hanging over our heads apart.

The beeping of my heart monitor lulled us to sleep and I didn’t steam, or feel too warm, or get dizzy all night long. I woke up needing to pee, and after I extradited myself from Billy’s arms, I trudged off to the bathroom, happy to find no blood anywhere. No spots in my vision came as I headed back into the room, and I felt hopeful. Even when the doctor joined us once Billy was up and marginally less rumpled than first waking and told us that I’d have to take the supplies with me same as the day before as a precaution and return for a check up after, I still felt positive.

They took blood, more tests, but this time it was to see if an actual antidote worked. It was to see how much longer I'd have to be under observation. Then they sent us on our way, to at least partial freedom, and at that point, I'd take it. Because it was a pathway to the real full one, and that made all the difference to me. 


	35. Hunting or Hunted...

After breakfast, Billy and I took a look around the nearest town. We took it slow and easy, something we rarely had a chance to do from the moment we’d met. Well, unless you counted the walk we took while we waited for the cervix dilation drug to take effect, and I’d rather not.

It was one of the smaller towns, a suburb of a suburb and I liked how removed it was from the city I’d lived near and worked in for most of my life. Holding hands, we window shopped and adhered to the warning alarms that the doctors set to remind me to flush out the catheter until the cure was confirmed and it could be removed. A small irritation for the freedom I felt at Billy’s side.

By the time our appointment time arrived, we were relaxed and feeling optimistic. I had asked the realtor to show the houses in a particular order, my least favorite to my favorite and she complied. Billy, had liked the same parts of the first two houses that I had, their solitude and the quaintness of each. As we drove down the long drive toward the final house, he told me he was feeling like the house we lived in currently was going to be the one we stayed in, right up until he was rendered speechless by the first sight of the last house.

When I video chatted with him during the tours with Mom, it was from the interiors, usually after I’d toured part of the house and sometimes during my treatments. As we drove up to the huge white farmhouse, set far back from the road, he’d gone as silent as I had the first time. The lawn wasn’t perfect, it sloped from the sides of the porch. The house itself was a classic white farmhouse, but the interior, when we finally stepped inside, was updated subtly and perfectly.

Billy held my hand as the realtor gave the tour she’d given Mom and me the day before, and just as I was stunned by the entirety of it. I loved my house, but this house? This house was a dream house. And the bedrooms? Dear God. Between those and the bathroom, which caused Billy to let in an audible breath, and I knew precisely what he was thinking because I’d thought it too, all of it, him and me and no clothing in that claw foot tub.

When we went out back, he was again rendered speechless, the porches, the hanging bed, the entertainment space. All of it was beautiful. And I wanted it, but did he?

Billy had more questions for the agent about this house than he’d had for the doctors about my condition. And I listened, smiling as I realized that he did want it as much as me and he wanted if fully furnished just the way it was and soon. I bit my lip to keep from smiling, but the agent’s eyes met mine and I lost the battle. Full blown grin and she knew. This was our house. All that it came down to was terms.

“You’re terrible at sales negotiations.” I offered when we were headed back after I’d flushed the catheter again. He shot me a look and saw my smile that took away the brunt of the criticism. “We have nothing to go to the table now, she knows we want it too much.”  
“You want it too?” His lips were tempted to smile, but he was fighting it, a losing battle at this point. I nodded and he let go. “That house, fuck, Ronnie.”

“Oh, Billy, I firmly plan on it.” His eyes shifted to me and I smiled at him. “Every surface, every room, every porch and every pillar.” I saw him shift slightly in his seat. “Tell me you weren’t thinking that very thought while we had our tour.”

“What I wouldn’t give-” he muttered, and I decided to help him out.

“There,” I pointed at a side road I noticed when we came through. “If you take me standing against the side of the truck-” I had to hold on to the handle of the door when he yanked the steering wheel to take advantage of what I was so clearly demanding.

Note to self: remember condoms when you choose to finally have sex after abstaining during a LONG period of health crisis. Spotting on your dark slacks is NOTCEABLE. I was dabbing at the stain and trying to NOT laugh while thinking of walking an actual walk of shame through Vought as Billy looked even more relaxed than he had all day. Of course he did. He came on MY pants not his.

“Sorry bout that, love,” he offered, dimple peeking at me. “Forgot til it was almost too fucking late.” Same, honestly. Thank God he’d had a moment of clarity. His hand creeped over to take mine. “Love you, Ronnie.”

I smiled and raised our hands to my face to kiss his knuckles. “I love you, too. Do me a favor?” A murmur told me he was listening. “Remind me if I go dark again?”

“Until you get sick of me, Ronnie, I will.” I smiled, but then corrected him.

“What if you get sick of me first?” I held his hand as he turned into the parking lot of the clinic.

He parked and turned to me. “Me get sick of you?” I nodded. “Not fucking possible.” He leaned closer and kissed me, hard and hungry and I knew he meant it. Completely.

The tests were promising, we were told, when we were settled back in my room in the clinic. So far, so good. Another night without being hooked up to the whirling machine, but the heart monitor was still deemed necessary as were a few others. Music to my ears, a symphony if we were in our new home, alone without any noises other than the ones we were able to force from one another and the sounds that came from nature surrounding us.  
I woke, sweat soaking my body and shocked that I didn’t wake Billy as I jerked back to full wakefulness. It had hit me, that one thought that had been tucked into a corner of my mind, poking me but not near enough to really tell me what I should be focused on. The thought of worry that made such little sense in this entire madness. And now, lying on a bed, in a clinic owned by Vought, at the mercy and whim of their scientists and doctors, it hit me hard and fast.

Why would they keep the variants that didn’t work? Why keep the actual vials of poison on hand? They had no working necessity. They had no purpose for research. There was no singular reason to keep failed experiments on hand, when the data for such research would have been enough.

And why would it have taken so long to figure it out? Why would it have taken an intern, an intern who was willing to ‘think outside the box’ and realize that Homelander would combine two vials to create a worse mess than one would do? Why would Vought need the time that it took for them to ‘find the antidote’? It hit me harder than the reality of the negligence in their keeping the variants had, and I had to swallow back the bile and fight to keep my heartbeat from hitting a fever pitch. Of course. They needed time to set up surveillance on us. All of us, Billy, me, Mallory, anyone who had taken the time to visit me and who had a part to play in keeping them on the straight and narrow. I was simply bait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to proactively beg for forgiveness. I've recently (think within the last two day, recent) restarted my medication and since I can be rather hardheaded and demanding (read: I rarely take no for an answer and end up paying heavily for it) I'm getting my ass handed to me through LONG sleepy fun times (and not the funtimes that lead to better plot lines, sadly). So, while my moods are leveling out and my moodswings are becoming less swinging and more even keeled, I'm also more napping and less writing. 
> 
> (I slept from 10 PM until 4 PM the next day, seriously, this sucks.)
> 
> That being said, I will try my best to keep writing when I'm not feeling so sleepy that I can't hold open my eyes. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me. Chronic illness sucks, mental or physical so keep yourself and your friends and family close to heart!


	36. Just Because You're Paranoid Doesn't Mean No One Is Out To Get You...

I have taken great pride over the years in my cleverness. Hell, I took tremendous fucking pride in my intelligence in getting one over on Homelander right before my little trip to the women’s clinic to take care of his invader spawn. That’s why having this nugget of horrifying reality slip through my fingertips, my brain matter, and my very marrow so fucking difficult to process. 

I’d been in their clutches this entire time. Right in the lap of their power, where they could have crushed me, but thinking on it, that wouldn’t do. Mallory had stood in this room, or the room I’d first been treated in and warned, no threatened the lot of them with the importance of my health, hadn’t she? They couldn’t have taken a chance, not the scientists (not that I believed any of them had the authority to make that decision), and Edgar was trying to rehabilitate the image of Vought International. If they didn’t want to harm me, then-

My eyes shut, tight against the steady beeping that belied the upheaval inside of me, as I swallowed down another round of harsh truths. Everyone knew how Billy felt about supes now, it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t tell anyone who asked, so someone in this twisted company probably hoped that my fear would bear fruit. If Billy Butcher killed me, then not only would it ruin him, proving once and for all that he was just as dangerous as believed, but the Office would be shuttered as a failure. The contingency, since a backup plan is always needed where humans are concerned, would be to utilize the free reign that comes when staffing becomes run thinner. I’d never fully staffed, it hadn’t seemed necessary. I managed to cover more tasks than most, Billy aided several areas, and so on and so forth. Knock me out, even with the bit that I was doing from ‘home’, and a wiggle space was created for someone or someones to dig in and push forward. Surveillance. Or monitoring in person. 

I made a truly rookie mistake. Cockiness, a belief in my own superior intelligence and abilities, and it got us here. Now how to fix it?

The first on my list of things to accomplish toward the goal of getting things back on track with Billy and me in the pilot and copilot seats would be to have a confidential sit down with him, alone and unobserved. Paranoia thy name is Dr. Veronica Taylor. 

“Ronnie?” Billy was staring at me like he thought I might bolt, and I was considering it, honestly. “Love, you alright?” I nodded, picking up my fork and absently eating while trying to think of where we could go off to, how I could find a way to let him know what I’d realized. 

“I’m fine,” I smiled, or at least I tried to. From the look that Billy was giving me, I had doubts that it was convincing. “Just can’t wait to get out of here and have you all to myself.” Truer words. Just not in the sense that he might think. “In fact, Mr. Butcher, spring me from this joint, and maybe I’ll show you a preview.” His smirk grew to a full blown smile and I felt my heart speed up in response, the entire building becoming privy to how this man made me feel.

“Let me see what I can do, Veronica.” A soft kiss and he rushed off, leaving me to my own rushing thoughts of how to find a way to tell him just how fucked up the entire situation really was.

First of all, I knew that Vought could and did implant chips into certain supes (recall Starlight’s removal of hers). If they had the capabilities to GPS their supes, what else could they chip them for? Could they implant audio/video chips? I racked my brain for any CIA tech knowledge of gadgets and gizmos that might have crossed my desk recently, but then again, I was out of the office for an extended period of time now. 

Even if they ONLY implanted a GPS tracker ON ME, that didn’t mean they couldn’t use it to access the surveillance video of nearby equipment. Look, paranoia comes from knowledge, and I work for the CIA. We’re not called the Central INTELLIGENCE Agency for nothing, people. 

I was worried about the antidote, too. What if it wasn’t actually a cure? What if it was another fucking variant? Or hell, what if it was just regular fucking Compound V, forcing my fucking body into regular old fucking supe soup? Damn it, I fucking was in KNOTS. 

Billy came back after work, after a day filled with more tests, more questions about how I felt. More “are you feeling warm”? More “is your abdomen tender”? And more times for me to actually feel like a fucking spy than any other time in my entire fucking existence. 

“There you are,” his voice, the only fucking voice I fucking cared to hear finally. “Good news, love,” I looked up from the book I’d been hiding behind for what seemed like fucking hours. “Not only can I spring you for the day tomorrow, but the entire weekend-”

I tossed the book and would have jumped into his arms, but I was still wearing my catheter. Fuck. “Back to our house?” I was excited, but then I stopped myself. Vought had had over a month to gain access to our house. Freedom to install whatever they wanted inside our home in order to keep track of me, Billy, our private lives and our progress at work and- I was still missing something, but what?! I felt like screaming, but instead I smiled. 

“Actually, I thought I’d spoil my girl with a weekend away,” I let him pull me into his chest, snuggling into the warmth of him, his broadness, his strength. “Away from doctors and needles, and beeping, and noise and questions.” Was I imagining the undertone in his voice? The undercurrent of suspicion, that paranoia that I knew existed within him. Maybe the old Billy Butcher wasn’t completely scrubbed clean after all. “Gonna surprise you, Ronnie,” he pulled back, eyes twinkling, and with a wink and a swat on my behind, he told me to grab only my purse, since he had a bag ready for me in the car. 

He meant a different car from his or mine. Completely different. Not even a company car. And that meant I was right, because we left Vought in HIS car, met Frenchie and Kimiko in this unmarked blah of a car, and then drove off in the opposite direction from where we’d gone to see the house we wanted to buy. 

I was still afraid to speak, even with my purse left behind in his car. Billy’s hand reached for mine, and I sighed when our skin touched. “It’s safe, Ronnie.” 

“How can you be sure?” I muttered, jaw tense. Unsure, so damn unsure that I wasn’t a ticking time bomb. For all I knew, we knew, the cleanser I was told to use on the catheter was a fucking solution to keep the kaboom at bay. “How can we be sure I’m not fucking bugged, or chipped, or fucking-”

“Trust me?” I glanced at him to see that he was darting looks my way. Nodding to let him know that I most certainly did trust him, he smirked. “I’m taking you to some people that Mallory found to have a peek see. She’s had some doubts for awhile now, but it takes time, Ronnie.” I sighed, still tense. “Told you, I won’t lose you.” 

“How far are we going?” I wanted to know how long I had to sit on pins and needles. 

He kept his eyes on the road, but his hand stayed with mine. “Not far, ever been to Mallory’s house?” I shook my head and he took note out of the corner of his eye. “She don’t give out many invites, so that don’t surprise me. This is one of her hideaways. She don’t count it as her home, so she deemed it a safe spot. Don’t think it’s in her name even. She’ll meet us there, not even Frenchie or the others know where it is, just in case.”

In case I was chipped, I thought, so the collateral damage was minimal. “What if-”

“The clean up crew is on standby.” His voice was clipped, and I knew he hoped that if push came to shove, that the clean up crew was going to be used simply to clean up HIS mess, not Vought’s.

The “house” we went to was glass and concrete. Reminded me more of our office complex tucked into a shale hillside than it did a home or even a safe house. Not that it really mattered since I was simply there for the damn doctors and science nerds to poke and prod at me to see if I was fucked up or fucked over. 

I was happy that Mallory didn’t treat me like an invalid, that was a saving grace. She didn’t tisk at me, or cluck her tongue and tell me how sorry she was that this was happening. Instead she asked what I thought the plan of attack could be. We discussed things as though my body were merely a secondary object, even as I was worked over. 

One scientist/doctor took the cleansing fluid for a sample, another took a sample from the catheter itself. Bloodwork, because of course, was taken. My vitals, because what day would be completely without me hearing my heartbeat in surround sound along with internal and external temperatures. On and on, but no one asked me the usual questions, or the ones that Vought asked, so I started to puzzle out those questions.

Why would they focus on those particular questions? 

First, how was I feeling today? OK that one was standard regardless of where someone was a patient. Skip that one. Second, was I feeling warm? That one was slightly more focused. Given the fact that my first NOTICEABLE symptom of my pregnancy was the steaming skin, and my temperature rising when Billy was anywhere near me, or when I was pissed off. OK, but once the tiny intruder was yanked and scraped out of me, the regulation it afforded me left as well, causing that symptom to go off the rails. When they asked that in the early days, it made sense, if I was feeling warmer it would mean that the blood cleansing wasn’t working and holy shit balls clear the room, right? But once I was doing better with the ‘antidote’? Why was it so fucking shocking then? If it’s a fix, even if it’s a trial period, they were asking more fucking often-

“Hey, doctors?” Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared down at me because I was prone AGAIN. “What are my internal and external temperatures?” They noted them and they were both normal. “Take them again, please.” I waited, and considered how my nerves felt and how I wasn’t just anxious but irritated. They told me it had risen ten degrees and I groaned. Fuck. “Yeah, not a fucking antidote.” Shit. “Rush the test on the cleanser, would you?” I heard the movement and the muttering.” 

“Ronnie?” It was Mallory, and I felt Billy’s hand on my cheek. “What’s going on, precisely?”

“They always ask the same questions.” I kept my eyes closed. Trying to gather my wits, and calm myself, since I was now my best fucking regulator. “First question is a throwaway, probably habit or hell for all I know it’s meant to make me think as much. Second one is ALWAYS about how warm I feel. Always. Even after-”

“They gave you the ‘cure’.” Billy’s voice was a hiss. “Those fucking cunts.” 

“Are there other questions?” Mallory sounded sick, and I understood because I felt sick. 

I nodded, feeling like the bile was rushing up. “Just one more. ‘Do I feel any tenderness in my abdomen?’” I could FEEL both of them staring at the catheter embedded in my abdomen. “I thought it was because that’s where I-”

“Where you hemorrhaged,” Billy whispered, his hand touching mine gently. “I signed for them to put that in you,” his voice sounded tortured and for a beat I had to hand it to Vought, they did something that even Homelander hadn’t managed to do. They’d hit Billy lower than even that caped fucker. 

The cleanser solution, what I’d taken as a benign solution to flush out a catheter whose redundancy would soon be made obsolete, had a tiny added substance that seemed to have a bit of my least favorite supe included. Yes, you read that right, I’d been flushing my catheter out with a wee bit of Homelander swimmers. I don’t even want to try to understand the genetic logic of that, and I nearly threw up when they attempted to explain it. 

Billy punched a fucking wall. I envied him that, since I couldn’t actually get fucking pissed enough to do that, or I’d probably blow up and kill us all. 

The antidote was clearly an antidon’t. It didn’t have Compound V, from what the doctors could see, what the determined was that with the TINY bit of Homelander leavings that they were adding into the solution to clean the catheter, they hoped to delay the inevitable, which was basically my body shutting down rather than going POP. Yes, Vought fully expected me to die, but they seemed intent on me dying in their clinic as a terrible side effect of a horrible mistake gone wrong. Sort of bandaid a bullet wound situation. 

Another wall got a rather forceful introduction to Billy’s fist and once again, I was envious, but resigned. 

Luckily, the doctor who seemed far more relaxed and confident assured me that he was fairly sure that I wasn’t as doomed as Vought hoped. In fact, he offered if he could have more time to study me he felt convinced he could not only remove the problematic substance, but return me to my normal human self. 

I caught Mallory’s eye, hoping she would give me a sign that somehow she hadn’t accidentally pulled a fucking psycho from the pile. She smiled and shook her head, so I asked him how precisely were we going to manage this extended visit, since I was pretty fucking sure that Vought had me bagged and tagged to the hilt. 

“Simple,” his smile grew as my heart sank. “We remove any chipped bit that might be within your body.”


	37. Maybe Watch Where You're Maniacally Laughing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone (I don't wanna embarrass a reader by outting them) asked what Billy would look like if Ronnie was in REAL danger...
> 
> Careful what you wish for...
> 
> Also, sorry for the wait, and thank you for reading and bearing with me!!

OK when a mad scientist looks at you with a gleam in his eye and gives a maniacal laugh about removing any form of tracking or tracing devices or chips within your very fragile body, maybe he should have read the room and your very dangerous wall punching boyfriend first. I would have laughed at how fast Billy had his white coat wearing ass pinned to the first wall he’d punched if I wasn’t forced to talk him down from using the asshole as a human cookie cutter to make a scientist shaped hole in the wall next to the Billy shaped fist hole. 

“Billy, please,” I pleaded, one hand on his hard as fuck bicep. “Don’t, at least not until the good doctor helps get whatever Vought put in me out of me.” A swear to fuck, that growl of his, slowly building as the now quivering scientist struggled and whimpered was going to be the death of me, or the major source of my utmost embarrassment. “Just think, once he gets the tracking shit out, we can have a tiny shred of privacy that will make the car look-” that’s all it took, his clenched fists released the lab coat and the doctor crumpled to the floor in a pile of fear and sniveling. 

Billy’s lips were on mine before I could enjoy the sight, not that I cared to complain. His hands, so rough on the doctor not a moment before, were soft as they drew me to him, his fingers sliding down the curve of my cheek, cradling my neck and tilting my head back so he could deepen the kiss and divert himself from rendering the man incapable of further aid. A throat cleared somewhere beyond the feeling of our lips sliding together. A cough came from behind where he’d turned my body, pressing it into the same wall that he’d slammed the man’s, but where he held mine tight and sensually, promising to show me just how much he adored every single inch of me. Our names, first uttered with mild humor, then growing irritation, came as each flick of our tongues stoked a fire that never seemed to dim, but I knew, even if we would rather cleave off a limb, we had to put a pin in the growing flames. For now, at least. A groan from me, a muttered curse from him, and a shared sigh.

“Finished, are you?” Mallory sounded bored or resigned. “Perhaps we could get back to the task at hand?” 

And with that, I was back on the examination table, and we got back to work on figuring out how to undo what Homelander put in motion. 

The chip was easy enough to find. For every techy doodad, there’s a techy finder. And extracting the chip was even mostly painless. Mostly painless, because the poor lab rat charged with the duty was rendered scared shitless by Billy’s hovering, glowering presence. The tiny piercing pain came from the pinch from his twitchy hand. And by some fucking luck or shred of self control I never knew I had deep inside, I managed to NOT show it gave me any discomfort whatsoever. Hopefully Chad, or Chris, or Cory takes that to heart. 

“Where are you planning on taking that to?” I asked, as the chip was put in a tiny rubbery tube that was handed to one of the cleanup crew guys. A nod at Mallory and the guy and his partner were gone. 

“Somewhere far away from here,” she smirked. “Now, next up is-” her eyes met Billy’s and the doctor that he’d nearly flattened before. She sighed. “Are you both ready to play nice?” I wanted to point out that I was the one that was going to actually be put through the fucking ringer and poked and prodded, but thought better of it. 

“I’ll play nice if Dr. Cuntsalot keeps the urge to go Marquis de Sade on Ronnie at zero.” I second that motion. “If he don’t? Then, let’s just say, that wall is gonna look great with him as my newest art installation.” 

I swallowed hard, but not nearly as hard as the doctor in question did. “I apologize if it appeared that I was-” he looked a tad green. “I only want to make certain that Dr. Taylor is healthy and completely safe.” 

What I learned, during my three days with Mallory’s scientists/doctors, was that I could always expect questions. Different questions, perhaps, but questions were a given. I had to let them know if I could sense disturbances in the way my temperature changed, since I had warnings during the steamings prior to the abortion. It became a bit of a game, how to curb the urge to steam without having Billy nude and writhing underneath me. 

Shaking it off was getting easier, but the goal wasn’t controlling the urge, it was removing the need to control the urge. 

“It appears that this ‘variation’ as they put it,” the lone female doctor offered, holding up a test tube with God knew what was in it and addressing it, rather than any of the actual humans in the room. “Is actually anti-Compound V.” I was so confused by this point, since we’d dealt with the steaming, the chip, we’d found that the sperm and genetic leavings from Homelander junior hadn’t created more problems than we’d expected, but that the variation or variations were the main issue. She realized she actually had an avid audience and took a deep breath. “Compound V, as they want everyone to believe and buy into, fixes all the issues with human frailty, correct?” I shrugged, as did Billy and Mallory as the woman’s colleagues reluctantly agreed as well. “This-” she shook the vial gently and I realized that she’d somehow extracted it from my blood, at least in part. “This is completely different. This takes all those frailties, and amplifies them. The reason you hemorrhaged? This. If you hadn’t been rushed in, if Mallory hadn’t forced them to acknowledge that it was given to you, that SOMETHING had been given to you, then they would have let it go. You’d be dead now.” 

I stared at the vial. How much more was inside of me? Was it multiplying as we spoke? “How long?” What was I asking? 

“I’m not sure,” she answered, staring at the vial. “This took the entire time you were on the machine today to clean out.” Eight hours of dialysis to clear that tiny vial from my bloodstream. “I can’t be sure how it multiplies, not without testing, but we can keep you on the machine, like-”

“Ronnie can’t go back there,” Billy’s hand took mine and his voice sounded fierce, but his hold was careful. “You can’t,” his eyes were on mine when I looked up. “I won’t let you.” I opened my mouth, but he shook his head. “Please, don’t argue me on this.” 

“I concur, Dr. Taylor.” Mallory took a seat on my other side. “Ronnie, they were willing to allow you to die to keep this quiet. Sooner or later they would have allowed it to happen. Vought has gone so far, too far.” 

And so, a new round of Dr. Veronica Taylor guinea pig began. This time at a truly undisclosed medical center.


	38. What's In A Name?

To be honest and fair, the near constant dialysis wasn’t horrible. Hell, after the time I spent under Vought’s thumb, it was pretty much my new norm. What was trying was the need for secrecy to the point that I couldn’t do the work I’d done before. Billy’s work participation was being curtailed as well, since he’d drove off WITH me.

While Billy and I worked from ‘home’ so to speak, Mallory assured us that Congresswoman Neuman and MM were managing to keep the Office running smoothly with quiet virtual assistance from us and Frenchie and Kimiko doing the fieldwork as necessary.

The first ‘breakthrough’ came a few days into the first round of testing that ran alongside the dialysis. Dr. Alison Denton, she reminded me as she came to tell me her findings, was pleased to inform both me and a tense Billy Butcher that in order to separate the tiny vial that she’d shown us before of what she was terming “Anti-V”, it would take around ten hours of non-stop cleansing.

The next test would be to see how long it took for Homelander’s unwelcome additions to my genetic makeup to multiply and restart the process. Since supe natures, and their metabolic structures ran somewhat differently than your average human, this would take a bit of time to decipher, especially since Vought had been willing to have SOME files freely to our office, but others were deemed unnecessary to our particular focus. While we could know WHERE the genetic offshoot went, we couldn’t know the full makeup of that material. It was two steps forward, five steps back, at least where Vought’s forthrightness was concerned.

Perhaps it was the holding pattern that was the hardest for me to deal with. With work trickling in, or at least the part that we could participate in, but I started to get more paranoid. More frightened, more fearful.

Vought alone was scary. They’d been willing to fake helping me to let me malinger and die at a time they felt most convenient. They were planning on using my death for whatever purpose that they felt most suited their needs. To them, I wasn’t a person that had worth, but a pawn in a game of their choosing.

Then there was this vendetta that Homelander seemed to have against Billy that spilled over onto me, which I only helped fuel with my need to poke him with my own cleverness. Overpowered, to the point of invulnerability, he had even managed to make me doubt Billy’s love for me. But it was his other strengths, aside from his psychological games that had me pacing more and more often to Billy’s chagrin.

“Not only is he strong physically,” I’d rant, irritated at the very knowledge of how strong he was, “but he can SMELL things from a distance that would have bloodhounds envious. His invulnerability,” I groaned, thinking about how impervious the jackass was to damage to his very being. “Did Vought honestly need to make a person so fucking indestructable? And before you say it,” I held up a hand as Billy opened his mouth, “I highly doubt that you can shove a load of C-4 up his ass, no matter how much I’d enjoy seeing you try.” I’d sigh, gaining speed in my rant. “He’s fast, even if A-Train is the speedster of the Seven, he is incredibly fast. Then there’s the heat vision, the fact that he has X-ray vision ON TOP of the heat vision is just fucking WONDERFUL. I mean, it’s how he PEEPED on us.” I’d look at Billy’s smirk, proud at his prowess and shake my head. “Yes, I know, I’m quite impressed by the fact that he survived the shame of your abilities too.” He’d pull me onto his lap, careful of my ever present hoses and leads. “He can see us, hear us, smell us.” My fingers would trace Billy’s face, memorizing every inch of him, fearful that something would happen that would take him from me. “What if he finds us and-”

“He won’t.” Billy would lean his face forward, letting our foreheads touch, knowing that this one simple gesture would calm me down faster than most. “The caped, overpowered, twat won’t find us. We told you, Ronnie, the building is zinc reinforced. Walls, roof, ceilings, there’s been added barriers.” He’d kiss me gently, letting me calm down further before adding to the list of protections. “Frenchie, he put together a little surprise, should the red, white, and blue cunt get too close, one he won’t soon forget.” Sonic boom surprises that he’d updated past what they’d attempted the first time.

Mallory sensed that I needed a distraction. Something to keep my mind busy. Something to help me with Homelander, with the issues that I had about his strengths and seemingly lack of weaknesses. That’s how I ended up with the videos. It went back to the issues with Vought’s forthrightness. How they were willing to share SOMETHINGS, but not all. So Mallory dug, and dug, and she called in favors that I knew I was better off staying ignorant about.

As a psychologist, one of the first things I feel is important in case is to start at the beginning. And for this particular issue, the beginning was Homelander’s childhood. Billy and I were situated around a laptop that was encoded with enough tech that I felt pretty certain that no one could trace it, me with a notepad and him with those eagle eyes of his. As the videos played, one after another, I felt the urge to scream build.

Homelander’s childhood, if that’s what Vought wanted to call this horrific science experiment was nothing short of terrible. A tow headed infant that went from excited toddler to bored, disdain filled in a matter of months would be enough to make any rational human scream. I watched as he accidentally hugged his caretaker, a maternal scientist, too hard and literally destroyed her spine, killing her. I watched as the look of shock left him, and acceptance replaced it. How he was conditioned through the stock image viewings that would be associated with his ‘brand’ set against the darker set.

Flash forward and I felt Billy tense up, as we watched videos that both of us were more exposed to, the holiday party at Vought that he’d attended with Becca. I studied her, tall and dark haired, so different from me. How Homelander charmed husband AND wife and how that meeting led to AFTER. The office, three hours of nothing, her leaving looking the worse for it, shoes in hand, eyes haunted.

  
“She never told me-” Billy’s voice broke the silence, since most of the videos had no sound, or at least we chose not to listen to the audio. “Not until-” I didn’t say a word. This was his trauma, not mine. His pain, his need to move past. “Not a word. No letter. Just gone.” I knew this, all of it, but he hadn’t really told me about it. Not even when he declared his love for me. “She told me it was cause I expected her to save me from myself, that I put her on a pedestal. And I did put her on one, cause that’s what you do to the person you love, right?” I didn’t answer, he didn’t expect me to. “But save me? We were supposed to save each other. Me AND her. Tit for tat. I got a temper, and I fly off the handle.” His eyes were on mine now, and I knew he was seeing me, just me. “Like when I had Dr. de Sade up against the fucking wall.” His hand cupped my cheek. “Like when your entire fucking body was steaming. We save each other, Veronica. Me and you.” I nodded, knowing that Becca would always hold a piece of Billy, but maybe, just maybe he was seeing her in a tiny bit of harsher light.

The next files were harder to watch, simply because they were all of the years that Becca was away from him raising Ryan. As I watched, Billy held my hand and I waited for his tension to rebuild, for his anger to build at seeing the woman he’d loved beyond reason live a life without him raising a child he hadn’t known existed. It didn’t, and it nearly kept me from my note taking. Almost.

I realized the vast differences between how Becca raised Ryan versus how Homelander spent his formative years. Not only did Ryan have a true maternal figure, he had a homelife. One where meal times, learning, playtime, and even affection was nurtured easily. Whereas Homelander’s entire purpose from birth had been to be a poster child for Compound V and Vought, Ryan had been an accidental ‘miracle’ brought on by a horrific victimization. Without the genetic boost Ryan received from Homelander’s DNA, he would have been a regular human child without powers. Boring and normal. And Becca had given up so much to give that to him.

Once the video died, after Homelander and Stormfront took Ryan from Becca, I sat back. I knew what happened next. Mallory had made sure that Billy and his team, including Ryan, had been debriefed. I had to read through them, so I knew how Becca had sought out Billy, asking him for his help. And how everything had rushed forward and how she’d fallen, in the end, and how Ryan was safe thanks to her insistence, and Billy’s adoration.

I was processing, glancing at my notes, one in particular popping out at me brighter than any other that I’d made even if it wouldn’t help us at all against Homelander, when he asked me if I’d found anything.

“Ryan’s last name is Butcher.” Quiet, my voice was always so hushed when I told him things like this. Things that I was unsure about his reaction to, not because I feared him, but because I never wanted to hurt him. “Becca left you behind, she walked away without a word or letter, she left so much unsaid, but when push came to shove she gave him your name.”

“Ronnie-” I heard it, the pain I wanted so badly to keep from him. I swallowed my own down and sighed.

“I won’t say I agree with what she did, or the path she took.” I didn’t. Even if I had tried to push Billy away, I had done it to his face, not behind his back. “I can’t do that, but I can’t deny that she loved you. She loved Ryan, Billy.” I knew he was staring at me, even if my eyes were still locked on my notepad. “It’s clear on the videos. No matter who Ryan’s biological father is, he bears your last name because that’s who she wanted him to be.”

“Never wanted to be a dad,” his voice was harsh sounding, and it forced my eyes up to see his pinched with a different pain. “Don’t got the temperament for it.” His fingers moved to touch the back of my hand. “When that doctor in the ER told me you were pregnant?” I nodded, feeling the same lurch I’d felt when he told me that day. “All I could think of was you and me, and if a kid was in the mix, then I’d figure it the fuck out. Cause I will fucking burn it all down before I lose you.”

“You’re in luck,” I smiled, linking our fingers. “Cause I think baby making is out of our wheelhouse forever, Mr. Butcher. Guess we’re just stuck with a lifetime of practice.”

He was laughing as he leaned over to kiss me, proving to me that he understood my point about Becca, but reminding me that I was here, and she wasn’t.

What had I learned from our video viewing? That we had our work cut out for us.


	39. A1... Not Just For Steaks Anymore...

I’d watched the videos, Billy had made more peace with Becca and her choices, but I still had some things in the back of my head that were fighting to surface but hadn’t pushed free yet. While I worked to figure out how to force the issues to the forefront so I could work on those next, Mallory and Billy found a way to contact my parents to let them know that I was fine, but that both Billy and I were going to have to stay off the grid for now. My mom let us know that our house was OURS, since she knew that we’d both fallen in love with it, after a call we shared before our light from Vought. 

Knowing that, should my little problem be solved, we had a home far from the office and the prying eyes of every single thing that we currently were dealing with helped, somewhat. Hearing from the doctor that I was now thinking of as the lead in my treatment that she felt confident that we’d be ready to try antidotes soon gave me another push toward feeling optimistic.

If only, I thought, as Billy and I turned in for another night in a zinc lined building in the middle of God knew where, I could put my finger on what precisely had the hairs on the back of my neck tingling. Even with Frenchie’s surprise, and the extra layers of precaution that I knew about, there was SOMETHING that still made my skin crawl with worry, I just wished I could pinpoint it so I could force it into the open and deal with it.

The first trial for a cure, or antidote, came a few weeks after we learned how long it took to separate the Highlander special sauce from my genetic makeup. With that knowledge under the lab gurus belts, they put their egg heads together and came up with A1. As the doctor stood in front of us rattling off the reasons she felt that the trial was worth the risk of actually giving it a try, Billy’s hand was cradling mine and his arm was wrapped around me protectively. I knew that the physical contact was two-fold. Not only was it to comfort me, but it helped distract him from his fear that I’d be harmed, or worse. And Billy Butcher’s favorite distraction, when I was close by, was touching me. 

The vial of A1 was tiny. So tiny that I wondered at its potential and its possible dangers. How could something so small really fix or harm me? Then again, I sighed, hadn’t a very small syringe of shit fucked me sideways to this point? 

“I’ll be injecting this into your port,” my port, another word for the entry point of the dialysis. “Monitoring will be continuous, Dr. Taylor, and I have to insist that you inform us of ANY changes.” I nodded, of course, that was both normal and expected. She took a deep breath and approached with a glance at Billy. I squeezed his hand and he sighed too. 

“Go on then, Doc,” he moved our joined hands so she had a clear path. 

I sat still, watching as she filled a syringe and then inserted it carefully and injected this first trial at curing what ailed me. At first, since the machine that normally cycled constantly in the background had been shut off, the only sound aside from our breathing was the steady rhythm of my heartbeat monitor. As the minutes ticked by, and my sarcastic retorts were building, a burning sensation started to sting in my abdomen. First a tingle, then a sting, then a full raging inferno. 

I hissed out a breath and I could barely hear Billy over the screaming of my heart monitor. “What the fuck?!” I was prone and the burning raged throughout my body, and as I searched for his face, finding it finally above mine, seeing his mouth moving but hearing not a word, I let the flames flicker over me, thinking that finally Homelander might have fucking won.

Homelander didn’t win. At least not this round. Although, I did feel like a fucking house fell on me, when I woke up and looked around I sighed loudly at the knowledge that once again I was hooked up to more machines than when I started out. Another feeding tube. An IV. I stopped counting or trying to count them when one of the monitors drew Billy’s attention and he was hovering over me. 

“There you are,” he was trying to sound flippant and it wasn’t working. “Scared the fucking shite out of me, again, Ronnie.” 

“New habits die hard,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Guess A1 is a fucking dud.” I shook my head. “How bad is it this time?” 

“Bout the same,” he shrugged, pulling his chair closer and sitting down while cupping my cheek in one huge paw of a hand. “Not steaming, but the whirling machine of blood stirring is up and on again.” I nodded. “Been out for a week and no one wanted to guess how long you’d be out, so the feeding tube was a necessity, same for the IV.” Another nod. “You were bleeding again, a lot.” Shit, that’s the burning then. “Not just in the stomach, it-” Billy looked away, down and bit his cheek and I knew it had been bad, really bad. “They weren’t sure what made it go so far and hard, Ronnie, but it was like your veins exploded.” 

“How did they fix it?” His eyes met mine and I swallowed so hard that I thought I had a rock inside my throat. “Billy, tell me they didn’t give me V.”

“Not a 100% dose, Ronnie, but they had to do something-” I blinked at him, feeling like my entire world was coming apart at the seams. “It isn’t enough to-” He took my hand that wasn’t filled with a needle or hooked up to a lead. “There’s a reason you’re hooked up to all this shit, Ronnie, if it was enough to supe you up, you wouldn’t need any of it, so think about that and calm down.”

I hadn’t realized that my heart monitor was spiking, but the sound was starting to break through the fear. He was right, if it was the same strength that the files we had gone through had gotten then I’d be off all this shit and running circles outside. Closing my eyes, I let the feeling of his calloused fingertips on my skin calm me further. 

“What now?” When I opened my eyes, I found that he had moved closer, his nose inches from my own, his eyes locked on mine. “What happens next?”

“Well,” he let go of my cheek long enough to brush my hair from my face. “First of all, you rest and let your body heal. That A1 crap did damage, the V they gave you was a very light dosage, enough to stop you hemorrhaging, but not enough to fix shit. Once you feel up to snuff, or more snuff, we try again.” I shook my head, wondering what else could possibly go fucking wrong? “It’ll happen, Veronica, you’ll come out of this and you’ll be ready to take on the world again.” 

“Never wanted to take on the world,” I muttered, and he smiled, leaning closer and brushing my lips with his. “I’d settled for just having our lives back.” 

“Then we’ll do that.” He promised.


	40. Let's Get Physical...

Healing from having my veins come bursting apart was easier than coming to terms with Billy Butcher agreeing to them giving me ANY dosage of Compound V. The man I love, a man who hated supes in the deep seething way he did, not only allowing them to give the formula to me, but to sign off on it as my power of attorney was simply something that I was finding difficult to understand. 

It was a very low dose, as proven by how long it took me to get freed from the IV, feeding tube, and single bed. Two weeks passed, with Billy bunking on what amounted to a high end roll away cot next to my bed. It wasn’t close enough to make either of us happy, but it was what we had to make due with, since the tubes and hoses made him curling up with me impossible. 

When I was well enough to start walking again, it was another slow going, and I honestly was ready to start screaming. I was tired of it all. The feeling of being so weak, of being inferior and tired, and of being a victim. 

“Ronnie,” Billy had his arm around me, strolling with me now that my legs remembered how taking steps worked. “I’ve been thinking-”

Here we go, I thought, he was finally so stir crazy that he wanted out. Back to field work, any work, hell he’d happily wear a fucking bullseye with a “come at me, Homelander” message to get out of this fucking building. In fact, so would I, where could I sign up?

“Once the good doctor gives you the go ahead,” wait, what? Clearly I was missing something, so I refocused on the bear of a man who was holding onto me as we took another round along the hallways. “Why don’t we start you on some PT?” 

“Physical therapy?” I looked down at my slippered feet inching along the tiles. “What do you call this?” 

He shook his head and kissed my temple. “I was thinking more along the lines of Physical training, like what you probably did early on in your time in the agency?” Oh, right, actual PT.

“You want to do hand to hand with me?” I pulled back slightly to look up at his grinning face. “Thinking about wrestling with me, Billy?” 

“Oh, I think about that all the time, Veronica,” damn it, his voice hit that low octave that always made my stomach clench and the heart monitor go crazy. “Careful or they’ll put you back on bedrest.” 

“Whose fault would that be?” I nudged him with my hip. “You really want to train with me? Are you planning on using kid gloves?” I squinted up at him, hoping that he wasn’t planning on doing this as some sort of appeasement, to keep me busy and my mind off of feeling useless, because that would do the fucking opposite. 

“Course not,” he leaned down to rub his nose against mine. “Plan on mopping the floor with you, sweetheart.” His lips met mine as my giggles erupted. Billy Butcher was a constant surprise.

It took two more weeks, more light physical therapy, since I had almost fucking died to get the ok to start our training. We had rules from Mallory and the doctor, of course. No blood shed, no bruising, and no broken bones. At least not in the first couple weeks. The last part we negotiated between ourselves. Hey accidents happen.

The building had a gym and a sparing area, because it was a fucking CIA hideout of some sort. I’d been using the cardio friendly machines to get back in less fragile shape over the past few weeks, so once we were both warmed up, Billy and I stood face to face, or at least as close to it as we could get with our height difference. 

“Now, I’m not sure how they trained you for the agency,” he was saying as I sized him up, looking at him completely different from every other time I stood near him. “Since you’re quite a bit smaller than me, your course of attack is gonna be different than mine-”

Aww how sweet, he was going to try to WALK me through it. I would have giggled, but I was too busy ignoring him to plan out my actions. I wasn’t stupid, I was still less than 100%, plus he was right I was smaller than him by a foot and a weight difference that I didn’t care to do the math on. There were plenty of ways to take down someone bigger than me, also ways to incapacity a larger opponent while also keeping myself free from harm. I was picking and choosing from them while Billy lectured me on the options I had.

“Once I say ‘3’ we’ll spar,” I nodded my agreement and smiled at him. “Winner gets to pick-” he studied me as his grin grew, dimples peeking out and laugh lines deepening. “Well, we’ll negotiate what the winner gets once we have a winner, agreed?”

I bit my lip and nodded. I was dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a fitted t-shirt and he was in a tracksuit that had me nearly undone by how silly it looked on him, but then he got into position and suddenly he didn’t look funny anymore. 

“One,” he moved subtly, crouching a bit more, hands clenching with anticipation. “Two,” another slight adjustment, maybe someone less attuned to him would have missed it, the way his legs moved a bit to the side, widening his stance to give him a lower center of gravity and taking away my point of contact in his knees. “Three,” and then he struck, fast and quick, but painless. I was on my back on the mat, his arms cradling me so I felt no impact, only the heat of him. “I win, Ronnie.” His smile was blinding and I shook my head. “I think I want-” he leaned in and kissed me, tongue and teeth and I didn’t give a flying shit that he won the first round, not a single fucking care.   
That was our first round on our first day. We didn’t spar everyday, but we did spar more than one round every time we did it. Usually an odd number, since we were prone to ties. At least after the first five or six days we did it. I started to feel more myself, throwing Billy around, or at least knocking him off his feet or onto his ass or back. I felt stronger, and more competent, less weak, and most definitely less of a victim.

When the doctor came, after one of our sparring sessions, to tell us they had another antidote to try I felt Billy’s entire body tense up. Me? I decided that if I’d made it this far, what the fuck could one more shot do? Kill me?


	41. It Can't Be This Easy...Can It?

When I thought, ‘what’s the worst that another shot could do, kill me?’ I wasn’t issuing a challenge. Just in case ANYONE might have been listening in, supe or deity, because quite frankly I was fucking tired of waking up with a feeding tube and IV fluids after another attempted run in with the grim reaper. 

A2, since we had a theme and we're sticking to it, was another small vial of seemingly innocuous fluid. Yeah, made that mistake once, wouldn’t be doing a repeat. I eyed it with the same distrust that Billy did, but I was resigned to another trial. I wanted to be rid of Homelander’s shit inside of me ticking and waiting to go off like the world’s worst bomb, and honestly, a small part of me was freaking out about the possibility of getting some of the asshole’s creepier traits. Did I want to even CONSIDER getting a craving for breast milk?

The doctor went over the same explanations, the same warnings, and the same spiel. I had to tell them if I felt ANY changes, good or bad, and immediately. Since the last time was so fucking serious, I would be given the dosage in my bed near the dialysis machine and the rest of the paraphernalia that might become necessary if the worst case happened. 

Billy was right beside me, his arm around my shoulders, his lips on my temple and I could feel his tension as heavily as I felt anything else. “It’ll be fine,” I promised him and he breathed my scent in before kissing my head. “And if it isn’t, we’re ready.”

It wasn’t perfect, nothing would be on the first try, BUT I didn’t end up with a feeding tube, IV, or unconscious. There wasn’t an internal explosion of my veins or arteries, but I had the burning feeling start deep inside my abdomen, which caused more testing. And more tweaking of the formula. 

Days of a little of this, a pinch of that, and there were a few screaming freak outs when the steaming would hit me again. Or, God help us all, when I got the nosebleed to end all nosebleeds, if you heard Billy tell the tale. There was pain and upheaval. I still spent time on dialysis. I had moments of pure irritation where I was bedridden from the exhaustion that came from the tension and the ringer that my body was being put through to figure out the puzzle that Homelander designed with Vought’s backup. 

It was bound to happen though, like Billy and Mallory predicted. Like my parents assured me. Like everyone kept saying would finally come to pass, I would beat it. And it did, without much fanfare. One day the tests simply showed that my blood was MY blood. No little invaders, no extra bits of whatever or whomever. Just Veronica Taylor. 

I wish I could say that learning I was 100% me made me euphoric or feeling like I’d won the war, lottery, and gotten a miracle from God himself, but honestly? I was just tired. Tired and still feeling like I was missing something, or like there was some other piece that would hit us hard and fast when I wasn’t prepared. Maybe that’s what happens when you spend months fighting for control of your own body. Or maybe it’s what happens when you win without a bang, when it happens more like a shrug. 

“Ronnie?” Billy came up behind me as I stood looking out the window at the bland landscape of the facility we were still ensconced in, since we had to decide what the next steps were for us where Homelander and Vought were concerned. “Why do you look so glum?” 

He pressed against my back, the heat from him and his strength causing my eyes to flutter closed. His arms went around me as naturally as if he’d been made for me and his chin propped on top of my head. “I don’t know,” I leaned back into him, smiling as he tightened his grip, hugging me tighter. “It just seems so-” I sighed and he chuckled. 

“Too easy for you, Doc?” I could see him in the reflection in the window and knew he wasn’t taking my unease as his laughter would make it seem. “Seems like it should have came with a bit of a bigger oomph, don’t it?” 

I shrugged, wondering if we were growing paranoid from our interactions with Vought and Homelander, not to mention the search for a supe who could kill at a distance without leaving a trace behind of themselves. “I just feel like we’re still missing something,” I bit my lip when his fingers slid up my arms, turning me to face him. “Are you trying to distract me, Mr. Butcher?”

“Depends,” his eyes were twinkling and his laugh lines were deep as he lowered his face to mine. “Is it working?” 

Then his lips met mine and for a while at least, I chose getting lost in Billy Butcher instead of courting the disaster that I knew must be hiding just out of earshot or visibility. We earned it, I justified to myself, as I was pulling his clothes free from his body and he worked to bare me to his touch. After all the ups and mostly downs that we’d been dealt, we earned every single moment that we could steal alone, naked, and locked in our own bubble. Ignoring the world, the lab, the building, and the people who were filling space just out of sight, to focus on one another. Trouble would come, it always seemed to, but as Billy’s eyes met mine while we were tangled together, as long as we could find one another and time for this, we could conquer anything


	42. You Know That Tingling Feeling That You Get When You Forget Something?  Yeah...That One...

Before Billy and I could reintegrate with the world we had to do a few things. Like more PT for me, which I fully enjoyed to the max now that I had NO extra hoses or beeping bullshit to hold me back. And Mallory and the doctors and lab rats no longer tried to keep us from hitting as hard as we wanted to, which was pretty extreme foreplay, but what’s better than working up a good sweat and letting the winner pick the laurels?

I had Billy on his back and my knees on his shoulders when Mallory called it for me and told us to pack it in. I was grinning and so was he when I popped to my feet, feeling like I could take on anyone, including that cape wearing asshole who started this entire mess. Giving my hand to Billy, knowing he needed my help like a dog needed a flea's, but loving that he took it anyway we joined the elder woman on the sidelines where towels and water waited.

“You look much better,” Mallory offered as Billy wiped my face down with a towel in deference to my win, taking a moment to kiss my newly dried nose before turning the towel on himself. “Do you think you’re ready to start preparing for a return to duties?” 

I grinned at Billy as he shook his head and rolled his eyes. I’d been chomping at the bit, knowing that we had work to do before I was ready for the next steps, but now I had Mallory on my side. Ha. “What do we have to do?”

First things first, from Billy’s standpoint, was getting our old house packed up under my parents’ and our friends’ guidance. Since I knew he was counting MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko in the friends category, he didn’t have to spell out that they weren’t just overseeing the movers. He did explain their needs to Mallory, since she needed to make sure they had access to the equipment they would need. Debugging or de-surveling our house was paramount before moving, but they would work both ends, since Vought knew about the new house they’d have to do a sweep of the property and the house. 

“I swear to God, if they ruined ANYTHING with their bullshit,” I was muttering, as Billy’s arms wrapped around me and tucked me into his own frame. “I hate that any of them were there, were in either of our homes, Billy.” 

“I’m not exactly singing their praises, Ronnie,” he breathed against my temple. “Let’s let our crew deal with it for us, and we can focus on our part.”

Our part, Mallory offered, handing me another USB stick was to get up to date with what Vought was up to since we were underground. Go through the files they’d been forced to relinquish along with some that my agency helped to come to light, find out if we could nail a lid on any of them for what they’d done to me, or if I could find proof that this was something that they had done before or would utilize again. 

Simple, right? Except, as I sat with Billy going over files, his computer and mine working in tandem since we both seemed to work well that way, it hit me. What I felt like I’d missed, what made my mind tingle and my skin crawl. What hadn’t made sense to me when I’d first learned about it, and what didn’t have a thing to do with what happened to me at all, but somehow seemed important.

“Billy?” He grunted, his eyes scanning the scroll of words as they went in front of his eyes. “Sage Grove Center.” I swallowed down the thought that had come to me, but he still was barely listening to me. “Billy, SAGE GROVE CENTER.” His eyes left his computer screen and focused on me. 

“What about it?” He was a flash away from shrugging I knew it. “Nuthouse where Vought played God with crazies, so?”

“Why do we assume it’s the only one?” Suddenly his interest was completely on me. “Stormfront, Klara Risinger Vought was a member of Hilter’s inner circle, wasn’t she?” He nodded. “Operation Paperclip, the entire point of bringing Nazi scientists here, to give them refuge after the atrocities was so they could share their fucking knowledge. Knowledge they learned in concentration camps. Plural, Billy. They didn’t simply test subjects at ONE camp, they tested at multiple. Why would she stop here?” 

His eyes snapped shut and I knew that he finally got it. “Bloody hell.” He breathed, and I sunk into my chair further. “They could be anywhere, they got legitimate labs all over.” 

I nodded. “Yeah, which means that our anonymous head popper might have friends.” Shit.

Once that niggling little weird thought finally wormed its way to the surface and could be shared, I could get back to work. Well, once we told Mallory who looked as freaked out as we felt about it. We couldn’t stop and go hunting, not when we still had to get updated so we could actually leave the zinc lined hidey hole we’d been ensconced in for MONTHS. Back to the grindstone we went, and as we read and took notes, all I could think was that Vought and Homelander had better fucking hope that we wouldn’t figure the entire puzzle out, because if we did, if we could hammer every nail, then they were done. In the worst way possible.


	43. Like Riding A Bike...

The team met up with us before we left our hideaway. Frenchie took the floor to tell us what was found during his extensive sweep of all three of our homes- Billy’s apartment, my former house, and our new house. 

“They had it rigged with so many hidden bugs that I almost felt impressed.” He was grimacing so I knew he didn’t actually get to the point where he was willing to give Vought credit for their tenacity. “We found them in places that most people would never think to place them.” His eyes shifted to Billy’s and his lips thinned. “Kimiko had fun destroying them.”

I looked at the young woman and saw her smirk turn into a full blown smile. At least someone had fun while I was being poked and prodded. Looking back at Frenchie as he finished telling Billy that the houses and apartment were cleared, while the new house was also protected against further tampering, I sighed.

“What’s wrong, Ronnie?” MM was leaning against the wall across from where I was seated and he’d been watching me from the moment he arrived. “You look healed, is there something-”

“I’m fine,” I waved away his concern over my physical condition. “It’s just-” I let my head fall back against the chair I was seated in. “Even if we lock down Vought on their dirtiest deeds, even if we nail Homelander for his nefarious bullshit, I have to wonder how the fuck do we put away a supe?” 

All eyes were on me, and I realized no one had considered this problem. Mallory was in meetings, with Neuman and other lawmakers and wheel greasers, but I knew that in the end the grunt work would be up to the people in the room with me. And the issue that I raised was a REAL one. If we found a way to prove that Homelander did any of the horrible shit we KNEW he did, how do you lock him down? Even with his zinc ‘allergy’, even with the very few vulnerabilities, was it possible to actually imprison a supe like him?

“We don’t lock ‘em up,” Billy answered, like I knew he would, but I groaned in response. “Ronnie, you and I both know, the only answer to the equation is-”

“Mass extinction?” I shook my head. “No one is gonna OK that, Billy.” He was staring at me like I was suddenly speaking Greek, which I actually think he knew so that comparison didn’t fly, but sue me. “You know working within the fucking Office with me means you have to constrain and constrict.” I sighed. “While I’m as tempted as you to shove a brick of C4 all the way up Homelander’s anal cavity, we’re not going to get the goahead from my superiors.” 

“Then we go off the books,” he shrugged and I shook my head again. For fuck’s sake, I love the man, but he was ridiculous. “Ronnie, an end is an end, and you and I both know it’s gonna be final.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” MM cut in, seeing the two of us gearing up for an argument or a debate at the very least. “First things first, we have to see if Ronnie’s right about the other testing sites. If she is and Vought took a huge chunk out of the Nazi playbook, then we have another search and document, if not destroy mission on our hands.”

“Not to mention, we still have no idea who the head popper is,” Frenchie added, seeing that Billy was ready to jump back into why we should kill all supes and move on after mode. “We have plenty to contend with without adding to our burden, oui?”

“Oui,” I sighed in agreement.

MM was wrong. First things first, was moving day. Or at least, moving in day. My mom had hired movers to pack everything up after Frenchie and MM went over the contents of our homes with a fine tooth comb and then unpack at our new house. All Billy and I really had to do was unlock the front door and go grocery shopping, which we learned was also taken care of when we entered the security code into Frenchie’s security system before all hell could break loose.

The fridge was stocked, as was the freezer, and a note was propped up on the island in the kitchen from my parents telling us to enjoy our ‘honeymoon’ break before checking in with them. Billy was pressed against me before I finished reading the signature my mom scribbled and I had to laugh as his mouth touched the nape of my neck.

“You know, she said ‘honeymoon’ in jest,” I teased, as he scooped me into his arms and started for the stairs. 

“Consider it practice,” he growled, and then he showed me just how fucking serious he took practice.

We ate dinner on the porch, in the hanging bed while the sounds of crickets sang around us. Mosquito netting kept us from being eaten alive, an addition that had my mom’s name written all over it, and I swore I’d buy her something pretty for it when Billy pushed our empty plates aside and was hovering over me as the moon glowed down and the lightning bugs flickered across the lawn. 

It was tempting to ignore the real world and our responsibilities and we did, for a weekend. Monday came and we got up, got a shower together and got dressed, like we had once upon a time, so long ago it seemed. In the car together, down the long driveway, and on a new commute we went ready to show the world-and Vought and Homelander that it would take a hell of a lot more than what they threw at us to stop us.

“Dr. Taylor. Mr. Butcher.” Anthony was beaming when we used our badges to enter the building. “It’s SO good to see you. You look wonderful, Doctor.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” I smiled, taking a pile of files and mail that would look daunting if I didn’t already know that I probably knew everything in it already. “Today is going to be a catch up day, no appointments, but if anyone needs to see me tell them to ring first, please.”

He agreed, telling us both how happy he was to see us and we moved down the hallway toward my office. “I should warn you,” Billy said, as I was reaching out to swipe my badge and open the door. “The carpet, where you-” Right, hemorrhage, blood everywhere. “They hadn’t had a chance to remove and replace it before I came with you.”

“It’s fine, Billy.” I was forewarned, but I still stiffened my spine and steadied my will. Opening the door my eyes focused on where I knew I went down and I saw nothing. No stain, no mark. “They must have-”

“New carpet, Dr. Taylor,” we turned to see Joseph. “I put a request in, after Mr. Butcher took time to be at your bedside.” He was blushing, but was managing to look us in the face. “I wanted your office to be ready when you both returned.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Billy smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, nearly causing him to fall over from the force. “Sorry bout that.” 

“You’re welcome, sir.” He looked at me and smiled. “We’re happy you’re back, Dr. Taylor. The office isn’t quite the same without you.” 

“Thank you, Joseph.” A few more pleasantries and he went back to work and I was shaking my head at the welcome I was getting. “Wow, who knew they’d miss me?” 

“Me,” Billy offered, once we were inside with the door closed. He took the files and mail from my hands and tossed it onto my desk and then pulled me to him. Tipping my face up with his thumb under my chin, he smiled down at me. “I knew they’d miss you because they asked me about you constantly. Daily even. You don’t know how many people you touch, Ronnie.” He kissed me, slow and sweet, so unlike anything anyone ever equated with William “Billy” Butcher that it made my heart skip, and I was so fucking happy that I wasn’t hooked up to a machine that let the world know it, only me and him knew, like it was supposed to be.


	44. Day One... Are Those COOKIES?!

Our first day back could be considered pretty boring by most standards. I went through the files and mail that Anthony had handed me upon arrival, Billy dealt with emails and voicemails. Nothing was too extreme, for the most part Congresswoman Neuman had kept the office running by keeping the chain of command the same, just without me or Billy in the loop. Simple enough. MM and Frenchie were unofficially official enough to contend with most issues, so they did. 

Paperwork and requisitions went through Joseph and his group, Anthony manned the entrypoint and the building didn’t go to shit without us. 

We went out to lunch and when we came back we were ready to get back in the true swing of things, with an after lunch mini dessert break, when we heard the type of ruckus that only occurred when a supe showed up unannounced. One particular supe. A massive asshole of a supe who wore a cape and chemically raped me to the point that I almost fucking died, type of supe. 

Billy looked like he wished he had the laser eyes that Ryan had been gifted with from birth at the cacophony coming from the direction of the front of the office. And honestly, there was a part of me that kind of wished that I hadn’t been so damn insistent on them being light-handed with the Compound V in my own recovery. Super strength or flaming breath would come in real handy when faced with a fucktwat who caused the need for my recovery.

“Ah, Dr. Taylor,” the blonde haired, crinkle eyed, grinning psychopathic superpowered fucker greeted me when I opened my office door to the noise of his adoring fans and found him standing just outside. “I heard you were back at work and couldn’t help from wanting to come see that you were truly completely well again.” He was holding a bouquet of- was that fucking cookies?! “Here, I had Ashley check to be sure that you didn’t have any food allergies,” he held out the cookie bundle. “She promised she did her due diligence, so I got you dessert.” Fuck you, I wanted to say, but we had an avidly watching audience. 

Forcing my lips to cooperate and arch into a semblance of a smile, I took the cookie arrangement from him, careful to not touch his glove covered hands. “Thank you, Homelander, how kind of you.” Sick fuck, bringing a fucking gift to your victim. Jesus, the amount of shit wrong with you could fill a fucking entire goddamn book. “You probably have a strict schedule so-”

“No, I cleared my day,” he announced and I wanted to be able to maim him so badly that I felt certain that it was telegraphed on my face, my thoughts had to be so loud that beings in space could hear them. “As the head of this very important office, your wellbeing is paramount, Dr. Taylor, Veronica, if I may?” I stared at him, wondering how it was possible for one body to hold so many fucking behavioral and mental issues. “If you’d step aside,” his voice had lowered, and I felt my hackles raise automatically at the intimacy of it. “I won’t have to continue this farce where the entire fucking building can watch.”

“Please come in,” I stepped back, feeling Billy’s body head close to my back and the tension that had built throughout my interaction with Homelander start to untwist. Once inside, the door snapped shut behind him and I allowed the false smile to drop. “What the literal hell do you think you’re doing here?” 

“We all have parts to play,” Homelander offered, moving further into the office and looking around with interest. I watched as his eyes landed on the spot where I’d nearly bled out and I nearly threw the fucking cookies at his head, but his shoulders drooped and I stopped myself. “I didn’t know that the mix would have that effect.” His tone was quiet again, less intimate, I wasn’t even sure I was supposed to hear him.

“Might not have known it, but it did.” Billy snapped, taking the cookies from me and sitting them on the desk so my hands were free. “Nearly killed her, right here.” He pulled me behind the desks, and sat in his chair, pulling me to sit next to him. “If you came to apologize, we don’t accept.”

Homelander turned, and for a moment I thought he looked almost shocked that we were even in the room. “Apologize? For what?” The ego was firmly back in place, spine ramrod straight, tone condescending. “I told you not to be so quick to rush to decision making. You chose to rid yourself of my parasite,” he was staring at me, to him Billy seemed invisible. “It nearly killed you, that was your choice, not mine.” 

“My choice,” I stared up at him, listening to what he was saying through a filter of who he was, how he’d come to be who he was. “I made my choice after you chose to chemically rape me. After you chose to take away my choice in having your parasite injected into me and then, as if that wasn’t nearly enough, you had me chemically modified with a contagion that was in the reject pile at the lab that created you.” I shook my head. “Get out.” 

“Get out?” He was smirking and I could feel the tension that I’d felt at the door building in Billy with every moment that he lingered. “Now, Veronica, is that anyway to treat someone who brought you a welcome back gift?” 

“Get the fuck out,” I corrected, not raising my voice, not showing him a moment of fear or hesitation. “Now.”

“Fine.” He agreed, eyes finally sliding to Billy. “I’ll go, but I do have to ask one last thing.” I reached out and took Billy’s hand in mine, linking our fingers to keep him calm. “How does it feel to know that even if you decide you want kids, you can’t have them with her?” 

I’m not entirely sure how I managed to keep Billy from attacking him. Perhaps it was because the question wasn’t one that triggered him, not like one Homelander might have landed had he physically raped me like he had Becca. Billy wasn’t interested in having kids, I knew that, he knew that, hell I think even Homelander knew it. I also know, and I think that the caped Asshole was banking on it, that when you’re definitely NOT going to be able to have something that’s when you REALLY want it. 

He left, more loud announcements, more confirmations of how happy he was to see the ‘fearless’ head of the Office of Supe Affairs in her rightful place, more vomit worthy bullshit and then he was gone. 

Billy was a ball of tension that I feared would take me days to unwind, but then another knock came to the door and in walked Hughie and for a moment I saw what my report mentioned. Hughie and Lennie, the way Billy connected the two of them, and even after how Billy had tortured the younger man with Annie’s former superhero boyfriend, they still had that sibling-like relationship. 

I was typing up the rest of the week’s schedule, thinking that getting back in the true swing of things would do a body good, so their banter didn’t fully register until Billy’s hand touched the back of my neck. Looking up at his smiling, dimpled face I knew I missed something I was expected to catch.

“I was telling Hughie that I think we should have a party at the house,” I raised an eyebrow. Billy wasn’t the most social of creatures. “Our new house, Ronnie, since the boys helped get it safe and orderly, why not?”

“Mom and Dad should be included,” I reminded him, and his smile grew, now that my parents had managed to get their matching sticks removed from their asses they were much more fun to hang out with. “When?”

When was two weekends out, so we could plan and get enough food and everyone could be sure to be able to come. Hughie made Billy promise that he WOULDN’T invite Soldier Boy for shits and giggles and I swore that I’d make him keep it. When the smiling boy left, I turned to the love of my life and asked the one question that popped to mind.

“What the hell got into you?”

He pulled my chair closer to his, and leaned forward so our foreheads could touch. “I love you. I love our house and our new life.” I nodded, smiling as he rubbed his nose against mine. “I wanna share it with them, our people.” 

“Our family?” He smiled and I felt my heart catch. “What about Terror?” His grin grew and I added in his aunt. Then pushing my luck a little further, I asked for something that I knew might be a bridge too far, but it was something I wanted. “Can I meet Ryan?”


	45. Hey Jealousy...

Billy didn’t flinch when I asked him if I could meet Ryan. He didn’t rage. He didn’t pull away from me or turn away. He sighed, and pulled me closer. Kissing my forehead before pulling back far enough so he could look down into my eyes, he only asked that we hold off on that conversation for when we got to our house.

Raising an eyebrow, I countered with an agreement for a postponement on the condition that he kiss me breathless, and with a roguish grin he took on the task with gusto.

We picked up takeout on the way to the house, deciding that Homelander’s bouquet would be best served in the fire pit outside, rather than ingested by humans or animals. Wrapped in plastic and tucked in a Tupperware bowl with the lid on tight, until we felt up to a fire, we took our food to the living room and settled around the coffee table. 

“What’re we putting on tonight?” Billy was filling our plates and jumped up to grab drinks, while I reached for the remote. 

“I was thinking that we’d watch -” I was flipping through Netflix, since we’d managed to mainline quite a few series while I was in medical and therapeutic confinement. I was grinning as the show’s title screen popped up. “Supernatural.” 

“Supes, fucking supes,” Billy muttered, opening his beer and setting my glass of tea on the table. “Don’t we deal with enough supe shite at work?”

I snorted, tossing two overstuffed pillows on the floor so we could use the base of the sofa as a back rest, but the pillows would save our asses from the pain that came from beautiful, yet hard as fuck hardwoods. Close together, elbows brushing, I waited until we were settled before I corrected his assumption about the show. “The show is about demons and angels, Billy.” I nudged him as he handed me a fork. “You know, SUPERNATURAL stuff, NOT super powered assholes in capes.” 

He grunted, clearly reserving judgement for when the show got going, so I hit play and we settled into our dinner routine. Food, drink, and beginning a show to mainline like a new drug. I must have made a noise when John Winchester popped onto the screen because I saw Billy twitch out of the corner of my eye, but he didn’t interrupt so I didn’t get diverted too far from the story. Two episodes in, dinner was finished, and Billy was twitching more often than not. Restless, I thought, and ready for our pinned conversation from earlier. 

I hit the home key on the remote so Netflix wouldn’t keep the good times rolling, and with Billy’s help I cleaned up our dinner mess. He was quiet, but I chalked it up to the topic we would be focusing on once everything was put to rights, and honestly, it made sense to me. Ryan wasn’t an easy situation for Billy to contend with in any light, but me wanting to meet him? After Becca - I could understand his hesitation.

“Porch or -” I left the suggestion open ended, leaving it up to Billy where we hashed things out. He took my hand and pulled me into our bedroom, up the stairs and I was a little surprised. “This is where you want to talk about me meeting Ryan?” I looked at the bed I hadn’t bothered to make before we left for work and was shocked silent when his lips captured mine with the same kind of hunger he’d shown- Fuck. “Billy,” I pulled away, and he growled, making my eyes widen and a twist of lust hit me low and hard. Damn it. “Billy, what the hell has gotten into you?” I was thinking blonde, cape-wearing idiot, so what he said brought me up entirely short.

“That man,” I must have looked confused, because I was, so he went on as his fingers and hands worked to free me from my clothing. “On that supe show-”

Man on the show? I tried to work through which man on the show, but Billy’s calloused fingers were brushing against my bare skin, making thinking about anything BEYOND his skin on mine more difficult than I cared to admit. Focus, Ronnie, focus. There were three main guys on Supernatural. Which- my eyes snapped shut, REALLY? 

“John Winchester?!” It came out sharp and incredulous, and he answered with a nip on my shoulder. “Billy Butcher, are you fucking jealous of a FICTIONAL fucking character?” 

His teeth were grazing my skin even as he murmured his reasoning. “You made the same noise when his fictional ass came on screen as you make when I do this-” His tongue touched my pulse point and I realized I made a tiny noise that I never noticed before. “So now, Ronnie, I’ve gotta make sure you make a hell of a lot of other noises for me before I see that asshole on the tellie again.” Fuck.

We were wrapped together, our sheets tangled around us, and I felt sated and exhausted. “Was that some weird way to keep from discussing Ryan?” A part of me worried that Billy wanted to distract me, and keep distracting me when it came to Becca’s son. 

He chuckled, and I kissed his bare chest before looking up at his very smug face. “Honestly forgot that we were gonna talk about that at all, Ronnie.” A sigh left him, but it was content without a trace of irritation. “Why do you wanna meet him?”

I let out my own sigh, stretching so my leg ran down the length of his and smiling at how he wrapped his closer to mine. My ear met his chest, searching for the soothing sound of his heartbeat, and I considered how to explain it. 

“Seeing the star-spangled asshole made the urge come bubbling up, but I think it’s been there for awhile.” Since the videos, since we watched how his upbringing had been so different from Homelander’s. “I know where he is, Billy, and I know that technically he’s being taken care of, but he’s under the watchful eye of Big Brother.” Billy’s fingers were sliding up and down my back, his own path to peace, and his chin was pressed into the top of my head. “Is the government a better mother than Vought?” 

“And you’d be meeting him as what?” Ah, am I going in as his potential- fuck, what would I be? 

“I’m a psychologist, Billy.” True enough, plus I was involved with Ryan’s surname-sake. “Becca wanted you to promise to keep him safe, which you have, but I think she didn’t just mean bodily.” I know she didn’t, regardless of how I felt about her choices, Becca was a good mother. She tried very hard to raise Ryan to be the opposite of his biological father, and she gave him Billy’s last name. For that reason, I wanted to meet him, to make sure that he was still on the path that she’d put him on. “What he went through, what happened to -” I couldn’t go on, discussing Becca’s death was too much. “He’s still a little kid, Billy, regardless of where part of his DNA came from.” 

“Not here,” I knew the battle was won, that now the devil was in the details. “Homelander can’t know where to find him, and while we got our home locked down, I don’t trust him, or Vought.” I nodded, and before we went to sleep, we discussed how to make my first meeting with Ryan work.


	46. F is for Friends, Family, and ---

Our day to day routine came back to us easily enough. We’d wake up in our new house, wrapped up in one another after sleeping without a hint of trouble, but that could have been from the copious amounts of sex that we were having now that I wasn’t wired for sound and beeping erratically every time he came near me. 

“Supernatural” wasn’t nearly as much of an aphrodisiac without John Winchester popping up, but Billy didn’t actually NEED the extra help. And the show was a fun distraction from the rest of our daily grind. 

We planned for our party, Billy getting far more into the details than most people might have guessed he’d be interested in, but his aunt and Terror were coming and I was excited to meet both. Mallory, MM and his family, Frenchie and Kimiko, Hughie and Annie (as she preferred to be called when not decked out in her Starlight get up) were all RSVP’d, along with my parents and Billy and me we were pretty sure we’d have a nice turn out. 

“Should we worry about any unexpected fuckers showing up?” Billy was asking as we were meandering through the Mom and Pop grocery store in the nearest town to our house, checking off our shopping list the night before our guests were going to be arriving on our doorstep. 

I snorted, thinking he had to be joking since the intel popped up on our desks reminding us just what time of year it was for the supe community. When he didn’t chuckle back, I looked up from the fresh veggies I was contemplating to see he was waiting for me to answer him with a seriousness that shocked me. “Didn’t you read the memo?” Since he didn’t nod or shrug, I giggled. “Oh, babe,” moving close to him, since what I was about to impart wasn’t exactly something the uninitiated needed to ever know about supes, I crooked my finger so he’d lean even closer. “Herogasm.” 

His eyes went wide and I knew that he understood the word, if nothing else. “That’s this week?” A tilt of my head in answer and his lips quirked. “No wonder you’ve got more pep in your step, Ronnie, we really have nothing to worry about this week.” 

“Oh, not just this week, but like at least a week after.” The orgy of decadence usually kept the supes sated for two weeks, too fucked out and blissed over to get into much trouble after their flashback to Roman times, we might actually have a little breathing space between us and our caped asshole. “Think of this as a vacation, or at least, time for me to go visit him.” 

Billy’s eyes tightened slightly, fear I knew, that Ryan would lose control again. That he’d accidentally tap into the same power that killed Becca, his own mother, and Billy would lose another woman he loves. “I know why you want to,” he was trying so hard to come to terms with it, my need to make sure that Ryan wasn’t falling into another trap, a different one, but it was difficult. “I keep flipping about whether I want to be there with you or-”

Leaning into his warmth, I smiled as his arms wrapped around me as naturally as if he was built to hold me. “We have time to decide, Billy, and you know that I will take precautions.” The same ones I’d take with any supe, even if I felt that Ryan was far less dangerous than his sperm donor. “I need to make sure he’s alright, for Becca.” 

Billy kissed me, smiling against my lips, and I knew that if we’d been in the city someone would be telling us to get a room. “You’re something else, Ronnie.” He murmured as he pulled back. “Now let’s finish shopping so we can get home and I can show you how much I love you.”

We were gathered around the firepit, stomachs more than full, laughing as Terror chased fireflies in the twilight. Saying our get together was a success was an understatement. No one had pulled any weapons. There hadn’t been many insults, no more than a normal family might toss out, that is. And the food and drink flowed freely. 

“This house is something else,” Hughie was saying, Annie cradled against his chest as they snuggled in the deceptively plush seating we had around the fire. 

“We like it,” Billy agreed, kissing my temple as Terror jumped onto my lap and snuffled into my neck. “Careful, boy, I might get jealous.” 

I giggled, scratching the silly dog’s ears and settling into Billy’s arms even as the dog snuggled into my lap and started to snore. “I think he likes me.” 

“Who wouldn’t like you?” Billy whispered in my ear. 

“Ronnie tells us you’re watching ‘Supernatural’,” Annie offered, her eyes glittering as she looked across the fire. “I hear you have issues with Daddy Winchester.” 

I bit my lip, thinking I shouldn’t have had that last drink while freshening up the fruit platter earlier. “Daddy Winchester, is it?” Billy’s voice rumbled through me and I felt the laughter growing in me. “He looks like a pansy.” 

“I don’t know, I mean, I had eyes on Dean, but John wasn’t bad looking.” Annie’s grin was growing and I shook my head. Hughie was squinting behind her and I had a feeling he was trying to think if he’d seen the show and who Dean was and what he looked like.

“Dean looks a bit like that Soldier twat you dated before Hughie there,” Billy offered, and my eyes snapped shut. Shit. “Guess you have a type.” 

“What show is this again?” Mom for the save, thank God. 

“No idea,” Mallory offered, trying to figure out how to diffuse what clearly was a situation that might go south fast. “Supernatural something or another, wasn’t it?”

“It’s called ‘Supernatural’,” MM offered, grabbing his phone and tapping at it. “The dude that has Billy’s boxers in a twist is in ‘The Walking Dead’ and was on-” 

“‘Grey’s Anatomy’,” his wife chimed in. “Oh he was Denny, remember, that sweet funny guy who died?” 

“Oh my god,” my mom’s eyes went wide. “I LOVED him in that. My friends at the club and I wanted to start a letter writing campaign to get him back, somehow, some way. I mean those soapy shows always have twins and weirdnesses, right?” 

“‘The Walking Dead’?” Hughie looked interested. “What does he play on that?”

“Negan,” I blurted out and all eyes locked on me. “What?”

“Ronnie is his biggest fan,” Billy growled, and I felt a very familiar tightening down low. “And who the fuck is ‘Negan’?”

Frenchie’s face broke out in a huge smile. “Negan is the big bad, or was. He has a baseball bat named Lucille after his dead wife, it’s wrapped in barbed wire. He’s insane, or he’s crazy like a fox, but he’s very popular as well. Especially with the ladies.” With this last shot, he tilted his head at me like a salute. Shit. 

“Denny?” My dad was a few beats behind us, but he was catching up. “Is that the one who you were sobbing over for days?” He was staring at Mom for confirmation, which he got. “Dear God, I remember thinking you’d lost your mind when you finally told me he was fictional and not a person you knew in real life.” 

“How has this descended into a conversation about Jeffrey Dean Morgan characters?” Billy’s aunt muttered, making everyone’s focus change, again thank GOD. “Honestly, Billy, it isn’t like Ronnie is going to bump into the man on the street and rip his clothing off and have at him. Get a grip.” 

Our house was set up so everyone could, and did, sleep over. Terror found the bed that I insisted on buying “just in case” and he fell in LOVE with the humpy gorilla that Billy bought on the off chance he was lonely. While we listened to our friends and family settle in for the night under our roof, Billy slowly undressed me and whispered all the ways he was planning on showing me how silly I’d be to waste my time with Jeffrey Dean Morgan when I had him within touching distance daily, nightly, and anytime I wanted him.


	47. Out of the Mouths of Babes...

“What’re you watching?” Billy came up behind me in our home office, his voice breaking through my earbuds and making me jump an inch out of my chair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook ya.” His lips against my forehead made the tension ease from my body.

“I must have been more riveted than I thought.” I hit pause on the video, and sat back. “Just thought I’d prep for meeting Ryan.” I’d been watching one of the stop motion videos Ryan had made of one of Becca’s favorite movies. “He’s talented,” I offered, smiling up at Billy, “I can’t think of many kids under ten who can use Legos to make a complete remake of ‘Dances with Wolves.’” 

“Becca always loved that stupid flick.” He shook his head, a sad smile lurking on his lips. “You were watching a movie he made?” 

I nodded, and pointed at the computer screen. “Yeah, he made a bunch, all non-violent movies. Clearly an outlet his mom wanted him to have. A good one, a way for him to be creative without being-”

“Without him tapping into his powers?” Another nod from me. “What’re you worried about, Ronnie? Really?” 

I considered how to explain without freaking out Billy Fucking Butcher to the point he’d go commando mode. “Vought went completely opposite from where it went with Homelander with Ryan.” I pointed out that they created an entirely false, safe community for him and Becca. A cookie cutter, normal place with bland people, with a bland school, and with bland hobbies. “Becca wanted so badly for her son to have a normal life, a safe and happy life, Billy.” I rarely used her name and it felt strange on my tongue, but I wanted him to understand why I needed to see that Ryan was in a good place. “I’d love to say that whomever Mallory was told would keep him safe is a good fit, but let’s be realistic, he’s being held by our government. If Vought has some shady shit going on, do you honestly think that the US government is always on the up and up?” 

“You’re worried that he might be being what, Ronnie, what are you worried about?” He wanted me to name it. To put it in exact words, but I wouldn’t, not only because I didn’t know for sure, but also because I didn’t want Billy to make a hasty decision that couldn’t be undone. 

“I just want to check on him, Billy, that’s all.” I stood up and moved into his space, where he’d perched on the side of the desk, stepping between his legs and looking up into his face. “I want to make sure that your promise to Becca is being kept, that’s all.” And for the most part, that really was it. I just worried, in the pit of my stomach, that it wasn’t.

I managed to watch three of Ryan’s Lego stop-motion film adaptations, getting Billy to watch “Terms of Endearment” with the promise that I’d reward him heavily. I also was sworn to secrecy about the glassiness of his eyes at the end of it, because the pollen count was clearly high, it had nothing to do with the show, nothing at all. I also went over some of the other videos from Becca and Ryan’s time before Homelander and Billy found them. 

I wanted to know what Ryan’s schedule with his mom had been like. The day to day, their special rituals, how they interacted, how they communicated. This was important because, even after Homelander unveiled the reality of the world at large to Ryan, Becca and Ryan were still a duo. Even when he took Ryan away, even when Stormfront tried to weasel her way into his affection, Becca was still his foundation. Knowing how Ryan was reared by Becca would help me when I met him because it would help me gauge how he was dealing with the changes in his situation and circumstances. How was he handling it, how were his powers manifesting because of it?

I also had Frenchie get me a tiny gadget that I didn’t want traced through the office or the usual channels. It had come to me while we were having our party and Annie sat across from me at dinner. If Vought chipped The Seven, then why wouldn’t they do the same to Ryan- the FIRST known child born of a supe. And if that chip had been removed by his new guardians, why wouldn’t our people put one in. My own experience showed me that it was more than likely that he was wired to the gills, even if he had no clue, so I had a gizmo that was more or less like an app on my phone that would tell me if he was and would act as a jammer should that become necessary. 

I felt like a conspiracy theorist, but something about Ryan’s situation, the more I thought about it, the more it felt worrisome. Billy, after careful consideration, was coming with me, but wanted to stay out of sight. He promised me that he didn’t feel homicidal toward Ryan, but he wasn’t up to a face to face just yet. Having him close by would be enough, for now. And knowing that the rest of the supes were diverted with their own distractions kept my blood pressure down, for the most part. 

Nondescript. That’s how I would describe the neighborhood and housing development that Ryan’s new guardians chose to take up residence in. Every house seemed to be identical to the one next to it, and honestly, from what I’d seen of the fake Vought community that he’d been raised in, it had more character. 

“This is,” I sighed, as Billy grimaced while he drove down the boring street. “Bland.” Maybe they thought bland kept a supe calm? Or maybe government guardians made shit wages and adopting Homelander’s offspring isn’t exactly lucrative, who knew? 

We pulled up to a house that was forgettable, and Billy sighed. “So much for staying out of sight.” No trees, no bushes, this was the worst place I’d ever seen for recon. Which made some sense, if you considered supes trying to sneak up to abduct a kid. “I’ll wait here, Ronnie.”

“Alright,” I turned to see that he was staring at me like he was willing me to stay in the car. “I’ll be fine, Billy.” Leaning closer, like a magnet he met me halfway, our lips brushing. “I love you, don’t go crazy. Play a game on your phone or something.” He snorted and I got out of the car. 

The sun beat down on the grass, which was surprisingly green, but there wasn’t any added color of flowers, nothing lined the walkway, there weren't any decorative touches added- no chairs on the porch, no flags, or wreaths. Nothing that would mark this house from any of the others. They didn’t even have a welcome mat. Shrugging, I pressed the doorbell and waited. And waited. Finally I heard the muffled sounds of footfalls on the other side of the door, then the clicks and snaps of locks being turned, before the door opened a sliver and a bright blue eye blinked out at me. 

“Hello?” The voice was quiet, hoarse, as though it was rarely used, and I smiled benignly. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Veronica Taylor,” let me in, I thought. “I have an appointment to meet with Ryan.” Open the damn door. 

“Right,” the door shut, but instead of reopening all the way, I heard muttering on the other side and then again the blue eye in a sliver reappeared. “Do you have ID?” Couldn’t fault that caution, but I did have to question why it took a second person reminding this one to issue it. 

Smile starting to twitch, I pulled my badge free, along with my office ID. “Here,” I held it up for Blue Eye to see, along with whoever might be behind her, but out of reach so she couldn’t grab it. “Now, may I come in for my appointment with Ryan?” 

Again the door started to shut, but again there was a whispered conversation and I was starting to lose my patience. “Whose in the car?” Damn it. I sighed. 

“My driver, William Butcher.” Blue Eye, who’d reopened her slat to ask blinked before her eye went wide. “That’s right, same last name as Ryan. Now may I enter?” 

The door opened only wide enough for me to slip inside, and on the other side was a slender woman, the owner of the blue eye- I was happy to see that she had two of them. And a man who demanded I submit to a pat down. Rolling my eyes, I sat my briefcase down, and stood with my arms out and my feet shoulder width apart. Once he was convinced I wasn’t packing heat, I was led into a surprisingly bright and airy living area. 

In fact, aside from the blandness of the exterior, the entrance was beautifully laid out and decorated. Large screen television, the art on the walls was both bright and yet also simple, the house was comfortable and lived in, but well appointed as well. Told to make myself comfortable in the family room, Blue Eyes went to fetch Ryan, while her male companion stood watch over me. 

“I do hope you know that as a psychologist, I have to ask you to leave the room when Ryan and I sit down together,” I offered, as I took a seat where I could keep my eye on the guard. “It’s a violation of doctor/patient privilege, you see.” 

“He’s a minor,” the man grunted, and I grinned. 

“Do you want me to throw my full weight around?” My head was tilted in challenge as Ryan was led into the room. The man huffed at me, but he led Blue out and I waited until I felt they were at least a reasonable distance out of eye sight. “Hello, Ryan.” He was staring at me like he wasn’t fully committed to trusting me, which was good. Ryan needed to learn a healthy level of distrust in the real world. “My name is Dr. Veronica Taylor.” He stepped closer, but well out of reach and I wondered if he’d learned a new reason to distrust.

“I thought I heard you say Billy’s name.” I smiled and nodded. “Is he here?” He looked slightly hopeful and it broke my heart. 

“He’s outside, in the car.” His eyes dropped to the carpet and I took a deep breath. “Would you sit down with me, Ryan?” He shrugged and I tried again. “Billy and I want to make sure you’re doing well, that you’re-”

“If I’m not, would he-” he stopped, but I’d heard it, the slight break in his voice and I felt a clench in my heart. “He wouldn’t want me to come live with him, would he?”

Shit, I thought, that wasn’t a question I’d prepared for. “Come sit with me, Ryan, let’s talk about why you’d want to live with Billy instead of with Mr. and Mrs.-” Fuck, what was Blue Eyes and whatshisname? 

Leaving Ryan in the brightly decorated on the inside, but bland as vanilla pudding on the outside house was the hardest thing I’d done since I left the clinic after Homelander’s failed attempt to murder me. Hearing that he wasn’t mistreated, necessarily, but that he also wasn’t being cared for so much as he was being lived with was bad enough. Remembering the gadget I’d asked Frenchie for, I’d run a quick scan and felt bile rise up when I realized that not only did our government chip the kid, but they hadn’t removed Vought’s. Why would they leave those trackers in? 

Saying goodbye to this little guy, a kid who idolized the man I love and who shared his last name, was harder than anything I’d ever thought possible. Harder than walking into a clinic and having Homelander’s parasite removed. Harder than slipping in and out of consciousness when the rejected Compound he’d had me injected with tried to self-destruct me. Harder than when I thought Billy might one day see me as someone he would have to snuff out. 

Ryan wanted to know if I’d be back, and when, and if I’d know if he could leave with me? And I wished like hell I could tell him something worthwhile. I knew I had more research to do, more files to delve into, including who Blue Eyes and Mr. Personality was, not to mention just what this neighborhood really was and how Ryan’s life was outside of that house. 

As I slid into the car, before Billy could ask a single question, his thumb was brushing a tear away that I didn’t even realize was falling. “Do I wanna know how fucked up it is?” I shook my head, feeling like I couldn’t even start to put it into words and suddenly the sobbing that I hadn’t done for any of the shit that I’d had handed to me from supes came out in a rage and Billy pulled away from the curb, murmuring his love to me, as his hand held mine and he drove us home.


	48. Gorilla, Elephant, Zebra, and Grandma...

It took the entire ride home for me to get my emotions reigned back under control. I was embarrassed by how deeply Ryan’s feelings of abandonment and loss affected me, and how they unleashed everything I’d been bottling up for months. Billy’s fingers stroking gently on whatever part of my bare skin he could reach during the drive, knowing somehow that I’d rather be home instead of stopping, kept me from falling entirely to pieces. 

By the time we drove up our driveway, the fireflies that Terror found irresistible were starting to flicker in the dim light and I smiled knowing he’d be waiting inside. Billy’s aunt had willingly given custody back to Billy, having begun a cohabitation situation with a ‘business associate’ that Terror didn’t particularly find loveable. 

My mom had dropped off an elephant to join his gorilla, and I hoped she never knew what kind of zoo based orgy Terror subjected the stuffed animal to, but our little drooler was happy with his gangbang so that’s all that really mattered. 

“You feeling better, Ronnie?” He’d pulled up to the garage, but hadn’t turned off the ignition or the lights. “Tell me you’re alright.”

I was staring out the windshield thinking about all the horrible shit that Homelander had done and the consequences of that shit that was still going strong, like a fucked up set of dominos tipping over and never ending. “When he raped her,” my voice was quiet, and Billy was forced to turn off the engine to hear me. “When he spent hours in that office with her, violating her and forcing himself and his seed into her, she left feeling like she’d done something to deserve it.” I’d never spoken to Becca Butcher, but I didn’t HAVE to, this was something that victims of sexual violence felt. “If she hadn’t worn that, if she hadn’t gone into the office with him alone, if, if, if-” I was glad he’d turned off the headlights, since I didn’t need to focus my eyes on the garage, I was too busy focusing on things that no one wanted to see. “Then she came home to you and your warmth and love. Your big strong hands and body, and she felt like she failed you. That she’d failed you because he took what was yours.” Again, I hadn’t spoken to Becca or read anything she’d written about what she’d gone through, but I didn’t need to. “Finding out she had part of HIM inside of her growing, knowing that you didn’t want to have kids of your own, and knowing that she hadn’t told you what he did, what she felt like she asked for, maybe, I think she did what she thought she could live with, even if it sucked.” Leaving Billy behind, with Terror, to trust the very company that put her in the path of her violator was beyond me, but for Becca it was a godsend. “Raising Ryan in that sterilized, safe, bland world with Vought’s help, it meant that HE wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps, Billy. She wanted so desperately for him to be different that she took all those precautions. She didn’t even let him play video games that had a hint of violence, or watch movies that went beyond the inspirational.” I hoped he was getting what I meant, what I’d seen. 

“I know this, Ronnie, we’ve been through it-” I sighed, and sat back, sniffling because my nose was still stuffed up from my crying fit. 

“All it did, Billy, was put Ryan right in Vought’s hands.” I turned, facing his profile and watched as he stared at the darkness falling around us. “He’s chipped, by them and us, he’s monitored by both and he’s miserable.” Ryan’s eyes flashed in front of me, the pinch of them, the tightness. “He’s not being mistreated, not physically, but he’s also not being raised in any way the way Becca wanted. He’s not being protected, not really.” Ryan’s arms, wrapping around me in a clutch when I was preparing to go, the way he pleaded with me to come back. “He asked about you.”

I left it hanging. I couldn’t push Billy to make a choice that I was somehow certain he didn’t want to make. He didn’t take it up, instead he unfastened my seatbelt and tugged me to him. “I love you, Veronica Taylor.” He breathed my scent in, his nose pressed into my hair, as though he wanted to be sure I was me. “Seeing you go into that house, not knowing what was going on inside was the hardest thing I’ve done lately, and then you came out and fell apart-”

“Ryan’s breaking, Billy.” I needed him to understand that my trigger was problematic in a deeper way. “He’s breaking.” 

Ryan was seated beside me on the sofa, but I’d turned so we could be face to face. He had some trouble maintaining eye contact when he first sat down, but I pulled out my tablet and opened it up, telling him I’d watched his movies.

“You watched them?” I smiled and nodded, telling him that Billy and I had watched ‘Terms of Endearment’ together. “He watched it too?” 

“Yes, Billy watched it.” I tapped the screen and showed him that I downloaded the videos. “Are you still working on your stop-motion movies?”

“No,” he started to close down again. “I don’t really have the time.”

“School taking up more time now that you’re in a regular school?” I’d looked into his records, according to what Billy had been promised. He shook his head and I asked the question in a new way. “Are you making new friends?”

“I have tutors, they come here.” I wasn’t too surprised, again, this way we could control the access to Ryan. It wasn’t precisely helpful for keeping Ryan’s world even keeled, however. “I don’t think there are other kids in this neighborhood.” 

I made a mental note to look into the area. I wanted to know what the hell our people were doing with this kid. A kid that had the genetic code of a supe who I knew from personal experience had a god complex and a will to use it. “What do you do with your time, Ryan?”

A shrug, no eye contact, and I grew more worried. “Will Billy come to visit next time?” This time he raised his face to meet my gaze. “I know he’s sad about Mom, I am too.”

“Oh, Ryan,” I wanted to comfort him, but I was a stranger to him. “Billy’s a complicated man.” Understatement of the decade, Ronnie. “I know that he wants to make sure you're safe and cared for,” my eyes snapped shut in irritation with my own idiocy. “He- He’s been really busy.”

“He works for the Office of Supe Affairs, I saw him on television.” Ryan’s eyes were locked on mine when I opened mine. “Wait, are you the-” I saw him running Billy’s press conference back through his memory bank and the dawning understanding flashing through him. “You’re the head of the Office, aren’t you?” I smiled and nodded. “You were really sick, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.” I swallowed hard, thinking I was going to be having this conversation more often than not, so why not have it with a child first. “You watch the news a lot?” I was thinking of the videos Vought forced Homelander to watch on repeat, hoping that Ryan’s guardians weren’t utilizing a similar tactic. 

“I watch whatever happens to be on when I’m in the room.” I nodded, waiting for him to go on, thinking that perhaps he’d talk more if I just let him pick the topic. “Billy looked different when he was on, so I asked them to leave it on so I could listen.” He was becoming more animated as he spoke about Billy and I realized that in him, he saw a hero-shit. “He was talking about you, and he looked so strong and-” He smiled at me, the first real smile Ryan had since I’d walked in the house. “He likes you, doesn’t he?” 

“A little bit,” I agreed, and he nodded at me like we were sharing a secret. 

“Did you find out who hurt you?” I shook my head, a lie, but we hadn’t actually exposed the culprit so it was easier. “Billy will find them. And he’ll make sure they pay.” 

The rest of the visit, I told Billy once he got me in the house and talked into a hot bath before dinner, had reverted to more or less the same low energy sadness. He wasn’t happy and he wasn’t being protected, not in the way I think Becca intended. 

We were in the clawfoot tub, my back against his chest, the warm water and bubbles covering us while Terror went to Horny Town with his gorilla and elephant. I was exhausted, completely and totally, down to my marrow. All the tension was leaving me, the warmth from the bath coupled with Billy’s naked skin was a potent medicine, and my eyes were having difficulty staying open. 

“Don’t you dare drift off, Ronnie,” his voice rumbled through the water, the tub, and me. “You haven’t eaten in hours, and you aren’t going to bed without dinner.” 

“I’m tired, Billy,” I argued, a yawn cutting through the middle. “Completely done in, honestly.” 

“Don’t make me baby bird you,” he threatened, his fingers sliding up my arms, and along my collar bone. “Come on, love, wake up for me.” 

I woke up to sunlight and birdsong. My leg was thrown over Billy’s hips, my head cushioned on his chest, and I knew that he’d lost the battle against my exhaustion. The sheet had slipped during the night, bunched low down my back, leaving his entire upper body bare to the sun and my gaze. 

Billy Butcher in the early morning sun was comparable to what I imagined Greek gods looked like basking in the sun for their worshipers to kneel before and feel graced by seeing in the proverbial flesh. His harsh angles were softened in sleep, the darkness of his hair was silky and shining in the glow of the light, and there was a hint of a halo around him. And he was mine. 

“I can feel you staring.” I smiled, kissing his chest where I was pressed. “You ever dry someone who passed out cold in the bath?” I chuckled and kissed my way up higher. “Dead weight, Ronnie, ain’t easy to get out of that huge bath we got.” 

I was just under his chin, kissing gently as he kept bitching about me, my dead ass weight, and putting me to bed without my dinner. “Are you finished bemoaning your night?” He groaned and I smiled as my nose nudged his chin. “Well if you want to be like that, I guess I’ll just get up and make us breakfast,” I started to roll away, but his arms clutched me to him and then I was on my back giggling. “Hey you.” 

“Hey yourself,” and then our lips met and all was right in our world, at least for a few hours.

I’d visited Ryan on Sunday, thinking that way he wouldn’t miss his classes, or tutors as the reality seemed to be. Once Billy and I were up and ready for our day, we made it into the office a little later than usual, but since we were still in the afterglow of Herogasm, I wasn’t worried that we’d have all that many fires to put out.

Terror was being taken care of by my Mom. She was taking the job of a pet grandparent seriously, showing us that she had a bed at the house for him, another elephant, and she’d gone out and gotten him a zebra too. Billy’s eyes met mine and I had to bite my lip so hard that I prayed I wouldn’t taste blood. Jesus, I really hoped that she wouldn’t lose her fucking mind and cool when Terror started humping the stuffies like the randy little turd he was. 

We got to the office and I was happy to see that we didn’t have a line of freaked out escorts, journalists, or anyone else who might have gotten wind of what supes get into when they’re off being freaks for real. One less thing to nearly worry about, Billy got to work on looking for other possible back up sites like Sage Grove, I got to work on researching the neighborhood Ryan had been placed in, along with the backgrounds of his tutors, and the identities of his guardians. 

I started with the area he was living in. It was so damn bland that I wondered if it had been a military post. Usually family housing on bases were bland and nondescript, and if anything described that place, it would be those two words. I was up to my eyeballs in planning documents, when Billy’s phone rang. 

“Butcher,” I half listened, since it was his cell it could be anything, and I knew he’d tell me if it was important. 

From what I could tell, the community was a low income project that lost funding, was bought out by a private firm which lost interest, was picked up again by the US government and completed, but wasn’t really marketed for sale. Another search told me that the rest of the houses weren’t occupied, at least not by regular neighbors. Maybe more agents? Shit. 

Billy was standing up from the desk, putting on his coat. “What did I miss?” I asked as he grinned down at me. “Where are we going?” I started to stand, but he shook his head.

“You’re staying here,” I raised an eyebrow, but his grin stayed firm. “I have an errand, and I’ll grab us lunch while I’m out.” I started to speak, but he cut me off with a kiss. “I won’t be long.” 

Arguing with Billy when he was being secretive would get me nowhere, so I let it go. He’d be back and bring lunch, that was that. And while he was gone, I stood up and followed him out, but while he went toward the front door, I went toward Joseph’s cubicle area. I had a few questions that my favorite paper pusher might have some ideas about finding the answers.


	49. 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, You Take One Down...

I was on the phone when Billy returned with lunch and he raised an eyebrow when he heard my tone. “What do you mean you don’t know if that chip has been neutralized?” I was ready to chew a steel nail in two after the research I was dealing with. “I’m telling you, there’s OUR chip, another chip that seems to be of an UNKNOWN origin, and then there’s a VOUGHT chip. So why the fuck hasn’t anyone neutralized at least the unknown one if not both the unknown and the Vought?” I listened as Raynor’s replacement squawked about the tone and my use of the word ‘fuck’ and rolled my eyes, blood boiling in an entirely normal way. “Let me explain something to you, I’M in charge of THIS office and at the end of the day ANY and ALL supes come under MY jurisdiction. Didn’t YOU read the fucking handbook and bylaws? So when I ask why something wasn’t done from YOUR end, I don’t want a lecture on HOW I asked it, I want to know the ANSWER to the fucking question. Do you understand?” I waited, listening to a noise that sounded like teeth grinding and then assurances that she’d find out something for me. “Good, I’ll expect it by the end of the day.” Another grinding noise, and a reminder of the time of day and I sighed. “Fine, the end of tomorrow then.”

I hung up and smiled up at Billy. “What’s for lunch?”

“Throwing your weight around a bit are you?” He leaned down to kiss me, then put the bags bearing the name of our favorite Chinese take-out place on his desk. “Since your desk looks like you’re preparing to invade suburbia, let’s eat over here.”

Opening cartons and sighing happily at the scents of my favorite dishes, I told Billy what I wasn’t learning about Ryan’s situation. “No one seems to know shit about shit, Billy.” I stabbed a piece of sweet and sour chicken with enough force to make his eyes widen and glared at it. “The neighborhood? It’s been bought and sold through so many corporations and our government programs that who the fuck can tell who owns it now?” Even Joseph was having issues wading through the piles of bullshit that I’d found online and in our own resources. “The tutors and his guardians? Let’s see,” I reached behind me and grabbed a sheaf of papers near the edge. “Blue Eyes is actually Regina Davos, she’s been with the agency for roughly three years, this is her first major duty, before that? The fuck does anyone know? Literally, it’s like she never existed. The male? I can’t find shit about him. Not a boo peep. No facial recognition, nothing. One part of me is thinking, alright, so our government went fully dark with this particular rotation, but Ryan is under ten, he’s a child who does have superpowers, but aside from Homelander and Vought, he has no known enemies.” I bit into my crumpling chicken and chewed. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

Billy was eating as he digested what I told him, or ranted at him as the case may be. “What you’re saying is that Ryan’s being guarded by two people that have no known background, in a place that has no known owners, surrounded by no neighbors, and being taught by people who I assume fall under the same shit?” I nodded, in a fucking nutshell. “And the CIA ain’t got a single solitary fucking clue about the chips?”

I sighed. “I sent the information the gizmo application that Frenchie set up for me to him and he’s the one who told me there are THREE chips. Vought’s, ours, and this third one that he can’t tell who implanted, since the gizmo only shows the devices, not who put them there. We’re guessing about theirs, ours, and the other.” Billy nodded as he ate his noodles and I went on. “I call Raynor’s replacement, useless dull witted cunt,” he snorted so hard I thought he was going to blow a noodle out of his nose so I waited until I knew he was safe from death by noodle in the nostril. “And she’s utterly baffled by the entire idea of Ryan. The fact that he has chips inside of him is absurd, much less three.” I rolled my eyes and stabbed another bite of chicken. “How does this happen, Billy?”

Taking a deep breath, Billy pushed his carton of noodles away and sat back in his chair. I watched him as he processed what I’d gone on about and I ate more of my chicken and even managed to choke down some rice.

“Mallory made the arrangements, at least that’s what she told me.” I shook my head, that’s not what the paperwork was showing. While Grace had an early hand in getting shit started, she’d been cut out of the decisions early on. “She said he’d be taken care of, that he’d be protected, Ronnie.” He looked as worried as I felt, which fucking sucked, but I needed a partner in this and who better than the man I love?

“I’ve put in an order that I’ll be monitoring this weekly,” I sent it up the flagpole, I hadn’t only thrown my proverbial weight to Raynor’s replacement, I’d gone full power mad bitch from Hell while he’d been gone. “Sundays are now Ryan’s ‘therapy’ days.” He nodded, biting his lip. “I think that you’re going to have to do more than sit outside, Billy.” I hated to do it, force him inside, force him to confront how he felt about Ryan full on, but I didn’t trust that house or those guardians.

“Wasn’t planning on it if you went back anyway,” he wasn’t looking at me, but I knew from the way he was staring off into thin air that he was planning for something that even I wouldn’t contemplate. “There’s not a hint of cover in that entire fucking neighborhood, I know, I walked it, rode it, hell I did everything but climb a house.” His eyes finally met mine. “Drone.”

Frenchie and Kimiko were in the office the next day when my former supervisor called in with her ‘update’. Billy and Frenchie were looking over the plans I’d managed to find for the neighborhood that Ryan was living in, while Kimiko listened to them and pointed out things that I’m sure neither noticed.

“You’re saying that no one has ANY idea who placed this third chip in a child?” I was fast becoming beyond irritated and had to thank God and the doctor who figured out the cure to what had nearly killed me because I’d definitely be filling my fucking office with steam if I was still under the influence of that shit. “That while WE definitely thought it was reasonable to CHIP a child like a fucking RESCUE DOG, and VOUGHT also chipped him, we haven’t a FUCKING CLUE who else tagged him?” Frenchie’s eyes widened at my voice being raised, but Billy tapped his shoulder to get him back on task. “How is this possible? We took custody of this minor to protect him and NO ONE considered, I don’t know, deactivating the ONE chip we ACTUALLY fucking knew about?” I was pissed off, Ryan had NO ONE, no real advocate and this shit was getting tiresome. “Now that we know about the SECOND chip, is anyone going to, I don’t know, neutralize it?” I listened to her make noises that were vaguely apologetic but also offered no real answer. “Great, you’re still as useful as ever.”

Hanging up, I sat back in my chair and stared out the window at the view that Anthony had laughingly called the best view in the building when I first arrived. Sure, best view if I wanted to stare at the back of the building and an alley and I guess the skylight that showed - fuck.

“Have we found out anything about the next member of The Seven?” They were down two, last count. Translucent and Black Noir, no, wait three, The Deep was still landlocked in Ohio or some shithole. “Billy?”

“Soldier Twat was being considered,” he’d gone to his desk and was flipping through the files. “Aside from that, I know they were in talks to rehabilitate Fishy again, but that’s all I heard.”

“Herogasm is over, the escorts are either being paid off or scraped off the surfaces of where they were fucked into oblivion,” I sighed, considering all the shit that we could be being handed. “MM is still working on the other possible Sage Groves, and I think I figured out who chipped Ryan.”

I wasn’t looking at the others, my eyes still on the building in the distance. The one that Anthony or any supe loving freak might think would add to the fucking view. The Seven’s building, rising like a phallus of bullshit, and in it was Ryan’s dad, who fucked a Nazi willing to do anything to build what her hateful asshole past wanted most of all. And who better to be the REAL poster child for that cause than a little boy born of an actual SUPE - and not ANY supe, but THE SUPE. Stormfront, that fucking bitch. While she and Homelander had taken Ryan on their little kidnapped ‘reality’ run, she’d found a chance to embed her own little homing beacon in him and I’d been running my ass ragged trying to figure it out. Bitch. I truly hoped that she was roasting in a Hell that was hotter than anything her tits being lasered by Homelander could have prepared her for.

Turning back to the room, I shook my head and shuffled the pile of papers nearest me. One fucking puzzle down, around a million more to deal with, and probably a trillion more lining up behind those. One at a time, I told myself, as Billy came over and rubbed my shoulders. One at a time, because that was going to be the only way to manage this entire mess.


	50. They Make a Salve...And A Cone...

Picking up Terror from my parents’ house was a lot like picking up a regular child from their grandparents’ house, at least I guess it was, I didn’t actually have any experience to go on. Billy and I shared a look before we walked up the path, a silent promise to NOT burst out laughing on sight if Mom was locked and loaded with horror stories about our little angel’s sexual deviancies. 

“We act completely surprised,” I muttered, as Billy smirked beside me. “If she mentions the humping, you maintain a stance of complete and utter bafflement, do you hear me, Butcher?” 

“Absolutely, Veronica,” he mumbled. “Terror’s never once gotten randy with anything, stuffed or not.” 

The door opened as soon as we were within touching distance and my dad was looking fit to burst. Either laughter or screaming I couldn’t tell, but he gestured for us to come inside and I shot Billy a side eye that warned him once again to keep his shit together and we crossed the threshold. Once inside, my eyes went wide and I nearly cracked a fucking rib. Mom had turned the family room into Terror’s own private orgy of debauchery, stuffy-wise anyway. He had a veritable zoo, farm, and fucking science-fiction fantasy gangbang of stuffed animals to choose from along with enough treats, a bed that had his name embroidered on it, his own porcelain water and food bowl, and a new leash and collar set that put what Billy and I had brought him with to shame. Dear fucking -

“Mother -” I breathed, as she came into sight with a huge smile on her face. 

“Doesn’t he look so happy?” She was beaming and I wondered if maybe hearing that I was, for all intents and purposes barren, and the fact that Billy wasn’t really interested in becoming a father, had somehow broken her? “Since he hasn’t been,” she leaned closer to Billy and I and lowered her voice to just a hint above a breath, as though Terror might hear and understand the word, “neutered. I thought I’d make sure he had ample ‘fun toys’.” Jesus fucking Christ. “I called a vet and they said that this was perfectly normal and fine, as long as he doesn’t get any chaffing.” Please for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t let my mother have actually checked to see if Terror has any chaffing on his little doggy boy parts. “If he does, he’ll start excessively licking himself. The vet sent over some salve and a cone, I have them in the pantry. I didn’t want to scare him with them before they’re necessary.” Fuck me running with a fucking pitchfork. 

“Thank you, Margaret,” Billy sounded so sincere that I wasn’t sure I could look at him on the off chance I’d bust from the complete fucking absurdity of this entire fucking situation. “You’ve taken amazing care of my boy. OUR boy,” he corrected. “We’ll drop him by tomorrow at the same time.” Then he called for Terror and we were in the car again. 

“Did that just happen?” I asked, once we were about halfway to our house and my brain reengaged. “Did my mother actually turn the family room of the house I was raised in into a fucking dog den of masturbation?” 

Billy let go, the laughter he must have held in from the moment he saw the fucking UNICORN she bought for Terror to mount released and with that I started to giggle too. The insanity of it, my mom, a country club matron, had called a veterinarian to make sure her grandpet was normal for humping the stuffies and then went overboard with it. Jesus. 

“The salve, the cone,” he was shaking his head as he pulled up our driveway, “that bit nearly did me in, Ronnie.” You, I thought? It nearly fucking undid me to the point of mad cackling. 

“I thought she was going to tell me she checked,” I chuckled, watching him get Terror out and walk him around the yard, Terror jumping at the fireflies while I moved toward the house. “What do we feel like for dinner?” I called back.

“Something easy,” was my answer, and I was in full agreement as I walked into the house, thinking that we’d be discussing more than just Terror’s day at grandma’s over Netflix and food.

We were on the hanging bed, sipping drinks and laughing at Terror’s snoring - clearly worn out from his exercise at Mom’s, when we finally got around to discussing everything that we worked through during our workday. 

“Stormfront had to have chipped him,” I said, shaking my head even as I snuggled deeper into his arms. “I swear that - I have to get at least two of the chips turned off, Billy, jammed or something.” He hummed his agreement. “I’ll discuss it with Frenchie and one of the techie geeks I have on staff, I won’t tell the geek the specifics.” 

“Speakin’ of Frenchie,” Billy took my glass from me and put it on the table beside the bed. “We looked over the plans and we think a couple of those mini drones that are all the rage now, that kids use?” I nodded my understanding and he went on, “We think we can use those to do a little intel gathering. See who else moves around the neighborhood. See what these tutors look like, and when they come and go. If we can get the right drone, might even be able to see what they’re teaching Ryan.” 

“Do you think they’re trying to teach him a curriculum more like what his Daddy had than what a regular little boy gets taught?” It had crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to give it substance, not yet. 

“Got to think that there’s a reason this shit doesn’t meet the sniff test, Ronnie.” I sighed. “I want to run the recon before we go in on Sunday.” 

That meant he’d be out of the office at least during part of the week, we really were back to work. “Back to the swing of things, are we Mr. Butcher?” I smiled into the darkness and he chuckled. 

“Getting there, Doc.” He kissed my temple. “Hearing you sound like the head of the office, throwing your weight around, got my pants feeling a bit tighter than usual, Ronnie.” I bit my lip, and he went on. “You sounded like you were about to rip someone’s head off, love.” 

“You liked that, did you?” Tilting my head, I was rewarded with his nose sliding down my cheek so his lips could find my neck. “I think my patience is waning. You might end up hearing that a LOT more.” He growled and turned me to face him. 

“That’s not a bad thing, Ronnie.” And he showed me just how little of a bad thing he found it.

Billy and I dropped Terror off at Grandma’s, as she insisted on being called, the next morning and I was considering having her checked out by a fellow therapist. All the trauma from my near death experiences must have rattled some shit loose in my mom’s makeup, because she was baby talking the wrinkly dog as we left and I could SWEAR she was promising him a trip to the toy store to add to his menagerie. For fuck’s sake, I was going to get a call from FAO Schwarz because my mother let Terror try out his new sex toys before buying, wasn’t I? 

Onto the office, where Billy met up with Frenchie and Kimiko, grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning with the drones they’d gotten their hands on with what I had to imagine was Joseph’s paper pushing magic. They had copies of the plans I’d printed of Ryan’s neighborhood and were discussing the best places for them to start from while I sat down and fired up the next round of my own research. 

“I’m going to check in with MM and Mallory,” I informed my partner, and got an agreeable grunt. “I want to see where we are on the search for other satellite locations for Vought off the books experiments, and I want to speak to Grace about Ryan’s situation.” 

“I’ll check in once we have a better idea of what’s going on during the day,” Billy offered, closer than I’d expected. I looked up to find him beside me, close enough to touch. “I want to see just what they’ve got going on over there, too.” He breathed deeply, but not getting the calmness he was searching for he reached for me and I gladly stood up and wrapped myself up in his arms. His face buried in my hair and I knew we both needed this, the strength we got from one another to face what we had to look into during our work day. “I love you,” his voice was almost reverent and I rubbed my face against his jacket and shirt covered chest, loving how his scent was distinctly him. 

“And I love you, Billy Butcher,” I reminded him, as he pulled away to look down into my eyes. “We’ll figure this out, just like we figure out every other fucking thing they throw at us.” 

He nodded, kissing me senseless for luck, and then off he went with his part of the team while I sat down in our far to quiet office and got started on my piece of the puzzle. How the hell keeping Ryan Butcher had gotten so far off track?


	51. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star...

MM had nothing uplifting to tell me, not that he wasn’t doing his damndest to find another site where Vought could be pumping the less than fully sane with Compound V to test the likelihood of it doing who knew what on those the world would rather forget. He sounded as light on patience as I was, and I told him to remember self care and the importance of taking care of himself in the madness of the course of our duties.

“Don’t worry about me, Ronnie,” he promised me he was taking more than enough time to smell the roses, or in his case take his little girl to appreciate the offerings at Baskin Robbins. “We have a standing date, and I do my best to not miss it.”

“Good man,” I was smiling through the burdens our lack of answers seemed to grow, but knowing that our team was taking the care to keep sane was at least something. “We’ll have to work out a monthly get together as a group, maybe -” I was thinking of my added visits with Ryan, weekly as of now, but if Billy’s intel showed it necessary and if my own digging proved my worries correct that schedule would grow. “We’ll see.”

“Hey,” I blinked, brought back to the conversation at hand with the phone in my hand and MM in my ear. “Look, you just got back in the saddle, Ronnie.” I nodded, but sighed. “Don’t think you’re gonna have all the answers all at once. Vought is the damndest group of conspiracy shit that I’ve ever seen, my pops even knew that -” I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what he meant, having dug through his past as well as Billy’s and the others. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Vought won’t tumble in one.” 

“Wise words, MM.” I grinned, my eyes landing on the monstrosity of the tower that I normally wouldn’t notice outside the bank of windows that made up one wall of my office. “I have to wonder though, if it will ever ‘all fall down’.” 

Mallory agreed to lunch, in the office after I told her it was of a sensitive nature. She surprised me by actually bringing it with her, however. “I thought I’d cut out the middle man, as it were,” she said, juggling the bags and drink carrier. I rushed to help her and together we set it up on Billy’s desk, still the clearer of the two.

Once our meals were divided up, drinks and chairs situated, I told her the reason I’d asked to see her face to face. “I asked Billy if I could meet Ryan.” She nodded around her bite of salad and I went on. “What do you know about his current living arrangement, Grace?” 

She chewed carefully as she considered my question, then after swallowing and taking a sip from her drink she answered as I’d expected. “All I really could do, Ronnie, was start the process. You know the majority of my pull is reputation based.” That’s what the paperwork showed, but I had to make sure. “I sent it up the ladder, a request, that’s all I could do.” 

I’d started eating while she explained, so it was my turn to chew and swallow. “The problem is that I’m not sure who took over after you took that first step.” She was squinting in confusion. “I can trace your request. Hell, I can even trace the request that Homelander made to find out Ryan’s location.” She stared at me in confusion. “It happened the same day you came to tell us about Adana.” A nod and I went on. “I put off or pushed away worries about Ryan because honestly I assumed out of sight out of mind was the best way to go with him.” Pushing away my own lunch I sat back. “Then my own troubles with his darling sperm donor started and I guess I started thinking about him more often, and it started to nudge me, this worry. Until it was a nagging irritation.”

“You asked Billy if you could meet him and he agreed?” She seemed surprised and I smiled. “He really would hand you the world if you asked.” I shook my head, I highly doubted that. “What happened when you went to meet him?”

I told her about the area they were keeping him in, the neighborhood that had no neighbors, the tutors instead of school. “He’s not being socialized. The guardians are guards, from what I can tell only one is an agent, and her identity is only known from the time she joined up, before that I can’t find a single mention of her. The man? Nothing.” I groaned. “I haven’t a clue of what the tutors are teaching him or what he’s being given in the way of nurturing at all. All I know for certain is that he has three chips in him and all are transmitting.” 

“Three chips?” Now she truly looked confused. “Why would he have any chips?” I stared at her. “Vought had him in a controlled community from the moment of his birth, Ronnie. Why chip a subject you never intend to allow out of your sight? We had no reason to chip him because, honestly, he’s a child who has only ONE known enemy and he’s a VERY noticeable one. As for the third chip, who would do it?”

“I guessed Stormfront.” She waited for me to explain my reasonings and when I did she was shaking her head. “I thought with her background, Ryan would be the epitome of the perfect specimen.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Grace leaned forward, her lunch as forgotten as mine. “The same reasoning as Vought’s. Why chip what you don’t intend to allow out of your control? Stormfront had the same over confident belief in herself that they did in their control of him and Becca. Why chip what you don’t intend to lose?” I started to point out my own chips, but she held up a hand. “You were different. You’re a loose end, Ronnie. No one controls you. They had to chip you to make sure they knew where you were in case you went supernova and exploded. That way they control the narrative. Ryan? He’s a child. Minors that young don’t just run off, not when they are under control of an adult dependent on the kindness of the company like Becca was, or Homelander and Stormfront.” She was making sense and it pissed me off because it left another puzzle unanswered. “These chips make no sense. Not when you really think about them.” 

Knowing that Grace simply asked for Ryan to be given protective custody, but then left it up to those who took care of that particular designation within the agency wasn’t super helpful, but it did cross her off the list of those who could answer more in depth questions about Ryan’s current living situation. Her theory about the chips, on the other hand, gave me more questions than answers.

I was going over Davos’ short file of service in the agency, trying to see if there was any way that I could finagle her identity through some channel that I hadn’t found before, when Billy came back. It was later than I thought, the sun starting to hint at the end of the day, and he looked grim. 

“Do we want to talk about it now, or do we want to go pick out our boy from Mom’s and hear whether or not they’re no longer allowed in the toy stores in the tri-state area?” His lips quirked and he let out a long breath. 

“Let’s do it on the way,” I slipped on my shoes and he held open my jacket for me. His arms wrapped around me and I felt how tense he was, how it released slightly as his body came into contact with mine. “God I missed you.” 

“Same,” I sighed. As we locked up, saying goodnight to the worker bees finishing up and the janitorial staff just starting their shifts, our fingers linked and we both felt that at least we were together again, and we could shift through what we’d come across while we’d been working apart.

Mom and Terror hadn’t been banned for life from any of the toy stores. From the sight of how many new acquisitions they’d purchased, I had a feeling I knew why. Terror was bright eyed and drooly, and he rushed over to Billy like he couldn’t believe the luck he had in moving back in with him and ending up with this crazy old broad as his daycare provider. I mean, can you imagine being a horny dog and having a babysitter who ended up making sure you never had to hump the same stuffy twice in one afternoon? Life was sweet for the little sweetheart. 

Hugging my dad, who was trying desperately not to mock my mom, or laugh his ass off at the insanity, I apologized for making her crazy. “I’m not sure this is your fault, Veronica.” He shook his head, trying to hold back on what was clearly laughter to end all laughter. “Maybe we should have let you have a puppy when you wanted one back when you were little.” He turned a laugh into a cough and I held mine in until I swore I cracked a rib. Jesus. 

We didn’t talk about the drones, or Frenchie and Kimiko’s help during the ‘mission’. Not during the ride to pick up Terror, or during the final leg to our house. Instead we simply enjoyed the lightness of being near one another. The ease it brought to both of us, letting us unwind from what was clearly a stressful day for both of us.   
He parked and let Terror chase the fireflies while I got the house opened up and dinner started. We ate in the kitchen, laughing at Terror as he gobbled down his own kibble, rushed outside and did more business, then ran upstairs to his less than posh bed and started snoring. 

“I think his daycare tires him out,” I offered as I took another bite of my own food. “He might need a break from Mom’s house.” 

Billy snorted, taking a drink from his beer and shaking his head. “I think we’d have a tantrum to end all tantrums if we try to keep the two of em apart.” He took a bite and sighed. We couldn’t keep work and our debriefing at bay forever. We both knew that. “Want to go first?” 

“No, but I will.” I smirked. “MM hasn’t found anything that remotely resembles what Stormfront did with Sage Grove. Doesn’t mean there aren’t others, just that he hasn’t found one yet.” He nodded, thinking about what I was saying as he ate through his dinner and drank through his beer. “Then Grace and I had lunch. She confirmed that aside from asking for protective custody and putting him in the car and handing him off, that’s all she did for Ryan’s protection.” 

“Kind of thought so,” he sat back and groaned. “Not like she’s got that much pull, even if we wish she did.” He shook his head. “So she’s got no idea about those cunts watchin’ him?” 

“None,” I pushed my empty plate forward. “And worse yet, she doesn’t think I’m right about the chips. None of them.” 

“What do ya mean?” He set his bottle down from where he’d been about to take a pull. 

“Her theory is this: why would Vought chip a child that they never intended to let out of their sight? And why would WE chip him for the same reason? Then with my theory about Stormcunt, she asked the same question. And I have to admit, I didn’t consider it from that angle.” 

“But if Vought didn’t, and WE didn’t, and the cunt didn’t -” he stared at me and I sighed louder. “Fuck me, Ronnie. And I thought my day was bad.” 

“How bad?” I gathered our dishes and loaded the dishwasher, then refilled my glass and got him another beer. When I got back to the table, he reached out and grabbed me, pulling me onto his lap instead of letting me sit on my own chair. “I do prefer this seat.” He rubbed his face against my neck, moaning at the scent and feel of my skin. 

“Me too,” he murmured, kissing me under my earlobe. “Let’s see, we got the drones up, after we managed to find cover about half a town over in a park.” He groaned. “Between me, Frenchie, AND Kimiko, we manned them and took some usable footage. Got Frenchie editing it so we can work it up to actually show you it.” I nodded so he would continue. “Tutors are a man and woman, just like his guards. They go in, but they ‘teach’ in an interior room. No windows, doors closed.” Fuck. “The guards have the tellie on half the time, but it ain’t on nothing too traumatizing. Soaps, news, whatever strikes their fancy at the moment.” Right, great. “From what we could tell, there are other residents in the neighborhood, but they don’t go anywhere. No cars in the driveways, no mailman. It’s the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen.” 

“Do you think you got a good shot of the tutors for facial recognition?” His hum told me he thought so, but his fingers were busy pulling my shirt free from my slacks. “Are you back to distractions, Mr. Butcher?” 

“Think we both deserve a reward, Doc, don’t you?” His mouth started to tempt me by teasing against my neck. “Unless you want to debrief more?” 

“Oh, I think a gold star is a better idea,” I was laughing as he scooped me into his arms, gesturing for me to grab our drinks, as he took me back out to our hanging bed outside. 

“Terror snores so damn loud he throws me off my rhythm.” He growled before I could ask why we were leaving the comfort of our house. And as I giggled, our clothing hit the porch floor, the lightning bugs were flickering around us, and Billy gave me a few dozen sparkling gold stars and I was sure to give him a couple of his own.


End file.
